


Rosa Salamanca

by Bitch_In_The_Blue



Series: Grand Theft Auto: Thirty Years [1]
Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V, Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, Grand Theft Auto: Vice City
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Bank Robbery, Depression, Drug Use, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, F/M, Family Drama, Gun Violence, Illegal Activities, Multi, Murder, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex, Small anachronism, Substitution for someone else, Underage Drinking, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 23:18:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11519598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitch_In_The_Blue/pseuds/Bitch_In_The_Blue
Summary: It's hard to get your life together when you're so much like the man you resent.Addiction, self- loathing, low income-- and everyone shoves it down your throat that a college education is the answer. But college is expensive, and money is hard to come by... Unless you have some connections.





	1. Rosa Salamanca

“Date… October 17th, 2013… Name and date of birth?” The police officer asked. The brunette on the other side of the desk tiredly uttered the answer as she stared at the officer’s name badge. De Leon.  
“Tommie Rosalinda Vercetti.”  
“Tommy?”  
“With an I E at the end.”  
The cop’s fingers clacked away at her keyboard. “Tommie… Rosalinda… Spell your last name?”  
The young woman spelled out her name, and gave her date of birth.  
“September 12th, 1993. Got it.” The cop said, finishing the needed information. “Alright gorgeous, it’s picture time.”  
The mugshot was probably the worst part. Awkwardly standing in front of a camera and height chart with a placard that had her name and newly assigned number. But, because she was an arrogant little shit, she smiled for the mugshot. Not apologetic. Just really fucking annoyed.  
After all, she hadn’t hurt anyone.  
She was put into a holding cell after she made her one phone call, and glared at the leering, harassing people in the Drunk Tank. While she waited for her uncle to arrive, she fought the urge to pull one of them up the bars and punch him in the face- that would only get her into deeper shit. It took twenty minutes for her “uncle” to arrive, and when he saw her, he was visibly pissed off.  
“You get  _one_ , Rosa.” Ken Rosenberg scolded as they walked out to his car. Her backpack and wallet had been seized, but now that she had them back, she searched through her wallet to make sure she still had her own money. Los Santos cops were about as trustworthy as the people they had locked up.  
Ken continued to scold her as they got into his car. It was a crappy old Albany Primo. Gray, just like his hair.  
“If I have to pay bail for a Vercetti,  _one more time_ , I’m going to flip my lid. I’m fucking serious, are you even listening? You can’t be careless like your dad was.”  
“Fuck, Ken, I’m listening,” she groaned irritably. “Don’t compare me to that  _asshole_  anymore.”   
She’d never met her father- a Mr. Tommy Vercetti who was  _ **filthy**_  rich in cocaine money in Vice City; but she hated him enough to reject the name she was given at birth. Who the hell names their daughter Tommie, anyway?  
A woman who loves her shitty husband no matter what he does, that’s who.  
She even hated being called a Vercetti. Her mother’s maiden name was her chosen surname. Salamanca.  
  
_Rosa Salamanca._  
  
Ken drove toward Rockford Hills. Rosa’s and her mom’s home since ‘94.  
“Lita’s gonna be pissed,” Ken muttered. “I don’t know what I’m going to tell her. That her daughter was arrested for shoplifting at a convenience store? She’ll kill both of us!”  
“She doesn’t have to know. Look, I’ll pay you back the bail money. I’m working at a good place now, I’ll handle it. It’ll be between the two of us.”  
“If you’re working in such a good place, then why were you shoplifting?”  
“What the hell else is there to do in Los Santos? Golf? Sucks. Yoga? Sucks-”  
“Are you using again?” Ken asked.  
Rosa went silent.  
“You are, aren’t you? Nothing you do ever makes sense when y-”  
“It’s not important. I’m not addicted, it’s just coke- it doesn’t even do much for me.”  
The washed up lawyer sighed and pulled over onto the side of the road, putting the Primo in park. “Rosa, you know this is serious. I can’t just let you do this to yourself. Cocaine is-” he paused. “I used to be fixated on it, I felt like I couldn’t live without it and I lost everything. Money, influence, girlfriends– your dad was the one who sent me to rehab out in Las Venturas. I got  _fired_. And we were kinda  _friends_  before that. I haven’t talked to him since then- he wouldn’t pick up my calls. That was when your mom had just  _conceived_  you. Look how long it took for me to make a decent, honest living again.”  
He tried to sell her the story of going straight, but she knew it wasn’t true. His and Lita’s friend Paul had come over for Christmas once, got trashed, and told the whole story about how Ken became a producer for that old rapper Madd Dogg and one of Paul’s British bands. It involved a lot of illegal shit- nothing that got less of a sentence than actual prison time.  
But even though his version of the story wasn’t entirely true, she knew he was just trying to help.  
“Alright,” she said defeatedly. “I’m done with it. Look, I don’t even have any more. I’m quitting.”  
He looked over at her, searching her expression for a lie.  
“Are you just telling me what I want to hear?”  
“No. I’m serious. Because you care, I’m quitting. No bullshit.” She meant it.  
“Thank you,” he said. “I’m holding you to it.” He put the car back in drive, and they continued the ride back to Rockford Hills.  
“Where the hell were you?” Lita Vercetti asked upon seeing her daughter step out of Ken Rosenberg’s car. She’d stormed outside the moment she saw his headlights. “I called you ten times.”  
“I-”  
“Rosa was arrested on false charges,” Ken interrupted. “Some kid put a bottle of eCola in her bag without her knowing and told the clerk they saw her steal it. She called me for help.”  
Lita looked horrified- buying the story.  
“Everything’s fine, Lita. They brought in the security footage and proved she didn’t do it.”  
“Oh my god,” the now fifty year old woman sighed, rubbing her tired brown eyes. “ _Thank fuck_ \- Ken, thank you so much for your help.”  
“Yeah. Thank you.” Rosa said, feeling like garbage for having her uncle lie for her. She knew she owed him- and all he asked for was her to lay off the blow. She’d make good on that promise.  
Lita, ultimately a mother, gave her daughter a tight hug. “I was worried about you. Don’t let that happen again.”  
“I won’t, I’ll make sure.” Rosa exchanged knowing glances with Ken.  
“Ken, do you wanna stay for dinner? I know it’s late, but-”  
“I was actually going to meet Carl for a business related trip to the bar in about an hour. But how about next weekend?”  
Lita smiled, glad to see that business was going well for her old friends. “Alright, we’ll see you next week. I’ll make Cuban food.”  
“Sounds good,” he said. It had been a while since he had her cooking. Brought back what few fond memories there were of Vice City.  
Lita moved in for a quick hug before he left. “Don’t be a stranger. Tell CJ I said to come by sometime.”  
He smiled- genuinely- and headed back to his car. “I will. Take it easy, Lita. Rosa.”  
“Bye, Uncle Ken.” The twenty year old said, waving him off almost awkwardly as he got into his car and backed out of the driveway, soon disappearing from sight.  
“Ugh, what a day.” She groaned, heading into the house.  
Lita followed behind, shaking her head. “No kidding, mija,” she said. “You must be tired. C'mon, let’s eat. I got a bottle of tequila today too.”


	2. Neighbor Girl

By morning, a week later, Rosa woke up on the couch in the living room. The TV had been on all night, and she vaguely remembered watching something about Jack Howitzer, but Impotent Rage was on by now. She reached for the remote and turned off the TV, groggy as she stood up from the couch. That’s when the hangover hit.  
She rushed to the downstairs bathroom and promptly puked up whatever liquor was still in her stomach.  
Was it only tequila? She could swear there was vodka involved too…  
She and her mom had done shots the night before. It was a Friday thing for them. But then Rosa followed that with a few glasses of wine after dinner and maybe a couple of beers.    
She made a reminder as she flushed the toilet and rinsed out her mouth that she needed to be more gentle on her liver.  
The vibration in her bra made her jump- before she remembered that she’d stuck her phone in there before she fell asleep.  
It was like nine in the morning on a Saturday, who the hell-  
Oh, Tracey.  
“‘Sup?” Rosa answered the call.  
_“Rosa, are you serious right now? You know what today is, turn on the TV right now!”_  
“Oh, shit- your Fame or Shame redo!” The brunette rushed back out to the living room and flipped channels, stopping once she saw her scantily clad friend on TV with a bruised up Lazlow. “Heeeey, you look great.” She grinned.  
Tracey grinned on the other side of the line. _“The sad part is that I didn’t make it. I knew I should’ve danced this time too- but the world just wasn’t ready for my singing, I guess.”_  
Judging by how terribly she was singing, Rosa would have to agree. Yikes. “Yeah, there’ll be more opportunities in the future. Your dad’s a producer, he can probably get you something.”  _Oh Christ, why did she suggest that?_  
_“Probably. I’ll ask him sometime. Oh- you should come over later! We’ll celebrate!”_  
“Celebrate what?” Losing on national TV? Rosa pulled a face- thank god Tracey hadn’t video called her.  
_“My TV spot, duh! We’ll swim, we’ll have some drinks, we’ll get Chinese-”_  
“You had me at swimming,” she chuckled.  
_But lost me at drinks._  The hangover was still making her head pound.  
_“Cool, see you later. I’ll call you when I’m ready. Looooove you!”_ Tracey hung up and Rosa let out a tired groan.  
Well… at least she didn’t have to heavily drink today. Tracey’s decided nickname was 'Tracey De Lightweight’, because after a couple of Pißwassers and jello-shots, she was off her ass just enough to actually be a half-decent dancer.  
By the time she’d gotten herself cleaned up for the day with a shower and her bikini under a fresh set of clothes, her mom was awake and washing dishes from the night before.  
Rosa slipped by her to the catch-all drawer and dry-swallowed some aspirin.  
“Hung over?” Mom asked.  
“Very.” Rosa muttered.  
Lita chuckled. “I don’t know whether to tell you to drink less and save your liver or to rub it into your face that I’m not half as hungover as you- and I’m over twice your age.”  
“Ha fuckin’  _ha_ ,” Rosa groaned. She was underage, but Lita didn’t mind her drinking as long as she wasn’t going to be out in public. She even let the De Santas share drinks with her on occasion. “What are you up to today?”  
“Just gonna meet up with Kendl and Cesar. They’re remodeling their kitchen and could use a hand. Sweet’s supposed to join us, but he might be busy.”  
”How busy? He still lives on Grove Street, right? Nothing happens over there anymore.”  
Lita finished loading dishes into the washer, dried her hands, and went to the fridge to retrieve an energy drink.  
"The Johnsons have been there longer than you know.” Carl, Kendl, and Sweet- all family- had lived on Grove Street since before Lita had even met them. She’d only ever visited once after the police riots had ended, but the neighborhood never really got better even after Carl and Sweet’s gang retook the streets. “Anyway,” Lita said. “Drink up, mija, the day’s only starting.”  
“Ugh… Don’t remind me. Thanks.”  
Lita came over and kissed the side of her daughter’s head. “I have some errands to run this morning too. I’ll be back later on tonight, so don’t go crazy. Love you.”  
“Love you too, Mom.”  
Lita was gone soon after, and Rosa left the kitchen after finishing her drink.  
The jolt of energy helped the hangover shrink down to almost nothing, and she felt like she had the energy to be a functional human being.  
Her phone rang again- and because it wasn’t on vibrate anymore, she recognized the ringtone as Tracey’s.  
Glamorous by Fergie, as per her request (demand).  
“Hey, Trace,” she answered. “Ready for me?”  
“Get your ass over here!” The blonde on the other side replied happily. “My mom’s making mimosas when she gets back!”  
Hung over or not, she never turned that down. “I’ll be over in two minutes.” She hung up and slid her phone back into the pocket on her shorts.  
Bikini: check. Phone: check.  
  
The De Santas lived in the house next door- just across a tiny back street with minimal traffic. Tracey was two years older and she and Rosa hadn’t spoken much as neighbors until they were both in high school. They’d both been at a house party and drunk-bonded. Six years later, they were practically best friends. Not quite, just  _practically_.  
And almost a literal two minutes later, Rosa walked up the De Santa’s driveway and was on her way around to the pool.  
Mr. De Santa’s car was there- but not Amanda’s.  
In addition to that, a grungy, beaten up red pickup was parked there as well. She’d seen that truck several times throughout the last few weeks, but never the driver. It looked like it belonged to someone grimy, if she had to visualize the driver.  
Weird, that didn’t seem like the De Santas’ type of company. They were rich, and always neat and clean.  
She found Tracey in the pool, floating on her back on an inflatable lounger.  
“Hey, Trace,” Rosa greeted, tossing her phone onto a lawn chair and following it with her clothes, sunglasses, and sandals.  
“Hey,” the blonde replied, crossing her ankles on the floater. Rosa sat down on the edge of the pool and dipped her legs in. “You in the mood to lay out?”  
“I’m always in the mood for sun,” Rosa replied. Tracey stuck her arm out and Rosa reached out her leg to meet her. The blonde grabbed her friend by the ankle and was pulled toward the side of the pool where she climbed out.  
They sat beside each other in the lawn chairs and proceeded to do absolutely, luxuriously nothing for a while.  
“I’m telling you, Mikey,” the balding meth head said, following his friend out of the garage and into the kitchen. “Vinewood wants tits. Not complex plotlines or- or- existential questions or edgy remakes of fairytales. Just tits. Big, glorious tits. Your movie was great and all but it didn’t have enough tits for America to demand a sequel.”  
“I’m not making porn, Trev,” Michael groaned, rubbing his eyes tiredly in response to his best friend’s ideas. “You want it so bad, go make your own- or don’t. Please.  _Please do fucking not_.”  
“Too late, you put the idea in my head!” Trevor Philips laughed, helping himself to a glass of the whiskey that lived on the kitchen island. He drank it as if it were water, cringing in delight when the burn finally hit. “And who is  _that_ prime cut of ass?” He asked, peering past Michael to look out the window by the pool. Outside was a brunette around Tracey’s age, sunbathing in a black bikini in one of the lawn chairs next to her.  
Michael’s brows furrowed and he turned briefly to see who Trevor was asking about. “Tracey’s friend. Rosa. Don’t do it.”  
“Do what?” Trevor asked impishly, casually staring at her tits. So he was twenty-ish-something years older than her. Some girls liked that.  
Michael blocked his view, forcing Trevor to look him in the face. “I’m serious, don’t do it. 'Mand and me are friends with her mom, she’d fucking kill you and then she’d kill  _me_  for bringing you around.”  
“The heart wants what the heart wants and I have no problem with that.”  
“ _I do!_ ”  
“Trevor!” The two men’s attention was shifted to the doorway, where Tracey and her friend Rosa stood, having come in to get water and sunscreen without them noticing.  
Tracey excitedly strode over and gave the balding man a hug around the middle. “I didn’t know you were coming today! I’m glad to see you!”  
“Good to see you too, kid,” Trevor smiled, patting her on the back. “Saw you on Fame or Shame, you did good.”  
Even Rosa could tell that was a boldfaced lie.  
“Hey, Mr. De Santa,” Rosa said as the blonde and her dad’s friend 'Trevor’ kept talking.    
“Hey, Rosa. How’s your mom?”  
“She’s good, helping my aunt and uncle remodel their kitchen today. How are you and Amanda? You guys seem happier lately.”  
“We are, we’re good,” he nodded. “I think we’re doing good.”  
She reached into the fridge to grab some bottled water. Trevor eyed her while her back was turned, and Michael moved into his view and mouthed: “don’t do it”.  
“So Tracey, are you gonna introduce your friend?” But fuck what Michael said.  
“Oh-” the blonde said as her friend returned to her and passed her a bottle. “Yeah, this is our neighbor Rosa. Rosa, this is my dad’s old friend Trevor.”  
“Oh, you’re the  _neighbor,_ ” Trevor said, actually looking at her face this time. She was cute. Olive skin and deep brown eyes, regular brown hair- and full, soft looking pink lips. Just right for suc-  
“Yeah,” she said uneasily. “Nice to meet you.” She wasn’t sure whether or not to shake his hand. Now that she looked at him, she saw he sad several sores on his face, arms, and hands… like he needed a doctor. Overall not  _too_  bad looking- if you were into older creepy, balding men; which… wait, was she? She wasn’t entirely sure right then even though it was such a simple question. He wasn't  _ugly_ , per se; he was just... Weird.  
“Nice to meet you too,” he said. He ended up offering a hand after all, and she was hesitant to shake it- but did anyway. His palm was rough with callouses. “So tell me a little about yourself. You got a boyfriend?”  
Michael had to intervene. “Trev-”  
“God damn it-” Mrs. De Santa’s voice came from the garage door. “Michael! Is  _he_  here uninvited again?”  
When she stormed into the kitchen, grocery bags in hand, her tone changed when she noticed Rosa in with them.  
“Yes,  _darling_ ,” Michael said flatly. “But we were about to leave. Franklin asked us for some help on something.”  
“Alright,” Amanda said cautiously- mainly not trying to set Trevor off. With company over; who he had no reason to keep from killing or fucking or killfucking, she saw the better option as the quiet option. “Come back  _safely_.”  
“I will,” Michael nodded, heading for the front door and beckoning for Trevor to follow. “I’ll be back soon.”  
Trevor followed behind Michael. “Ladies, it was nice. And uh-” he pointed to Rosa. “Hope to see you again soon,  _neighbor girl_.”  
“Oh, uh-” Rosa blinked, unsure how to reply. “You too!” Fuck, why did she say that of all things? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-  
Amanda had been silent until they all heard the garage door shut one last time. “Christ, I wish he wouldn’t come around here anymore. Did he say anything weird to you?”  
“No, not really,” Rosa said. “Just- regular stuff, I guess.”  
“Well-” Tracey tried to break the tension. “Let’s just forget about it. Mom, you brought stuff for mimosas home, right?”  
“Right,” Amanda sighed. “Moving on- how strong do you want 'em?”


	3. Lying

Hours later, the three women were still out by the pool- all drunk, all tanned, and all having a good Saturday.  
“So like- I wanna ask Daddy if he can get me a part in one of his movies. He’s making Meltdown 2, right? I wanna be in that.” Tracey slurred. After they drank four bottles worth of champagne and orange juice, they moved on to Amanda’s favorite red wine.  
Drunk again despite Rosa’s earlier promise to herself.  
“I-I think you can-” Amanda paused, “I think you can do it, baby. Don’t you think she can do it, Rosa?”  
“She can do  _anything_  if she asks enough times!” Rosa laughed, “I wish  _my_  dad was a movie producer!”  
“Our dad’s aren’t that different!” Tracey said. “I mean- they’re both…shitty and distant…”  
Heavy. But true. But they were too drunk to care. The sun was burning too hot by then, and they were ready to go indoors and cool off.  
They spent a few hours watching TV and sobering up just enough to go back to drinking and not feeling overwhelmed. They split another bottle of wine, and realized that the sun was going down.  
“I’m gonna go back to my house and… take a shower,” Rosa said. “I smell like chlorine and-” she burped. “Cabernet.”  
“Do you wanna come back for dinner?” Amanda laughed.  
“Yeah, Mom was gonna order Chinese!” Tracey beamed.  
“Sure, sure- I’ll come back soon!” Rosa nodded, shakily standing up and heading for the door. She checked her pockets for her phone. Got it? Good.  
“See you in a bit!”  
The walk back to her house felt chilly now that the sun was down and she was in nothing but a damp bikini, shorts, and a tank top.  
Mom still wasn’t home yet- it had to be about 8 by now- she’d probably be out until 10. Rosa noted that the mail was brought in at some point- so Mom had been home while Rosa was at the De Santa’s and left again.  
Anyway- shower.  
She hung up her wet bathing suit to air dry on the handle of the bathroom door and took a long, hot shower. She stepped out afterward feeling clean, refreshed, and at that perfect level of intoxicated. Clean clothes, hair comfortably tied back, and ready to probably drink more, she left her house to make her way next door again.  
After she’d crossed the street, she saw that Trevor’s truck was pulled up against the curb. She could hear him and Michael talking as she came closer.  
“Frank would need to be with us,” Michael said. “We’d need somebody else. Somebody not intimidating and can’t be connected to us when they review security footage-”  
“Not intimidating? Like a  _lady_! That hacker chick Lester uses.” Trevor said.  
“Paige? I tried contacting her already,” Michael replied. “Out of town for the next month and a half.”  
“ _Lester himself, then?_ ”  
“You know he won’t do anything that involves showing his face. Besides, he can’t move fast enough to get out.”  
“Shit. I’m out of ideas.” Trevor muttered.  
Rosa pretended not to listen as she walked up to Michael’s front gate.  
“Hey- neighbor girl!” Trevor called her.  
Shit. “Friend guy.” She answered, turning to face them. “What’s going on?”  
“How would  _you_  like to make some money?” Trevor asked. She noted that he talked with his hands a lot- and the way he wrapped an arm around her shoulder made it clear that he wasn’t afraid to get into someone’s personal space.  
“No, T,” Michael scolded.  
“Well… What is it?” She frowned.  
“ _No_.”  
“Just a little run to the local Fleeca bank,” Trevor said, affectionately rubbing his rough thumb against the skin of her arm. “You got an account there?”  
“No?”  
“Perfect!”  
“ _NO, T._ ” Michael reiterated. “We’re not going to fuck up her life for a job.”  
“Look!” Rosa spoke above both of them. “I’m not stupid, I can tell you’re talking about a bank robbery. I don’t care if it’s illegal. I don’t. Money is money, and I can always use more. I come from a family of criminals, so this ain’t shit to me. Just tell me what you want and I’ll think about it.”  
She turned to Trevor. “What would you need me to do?”  
“You’re amazing,” he said, sliding his arm off of her. “How about we trade phone numbers and we all talk about this further tomorrow?”  
“Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute-” Michael interrupted. Exasperated. “Fuckin’ A; kid, do you know what you would be getting yourself into? What would your mother think?”  
“She won’t think anything if it’s a job done right. I assume you’re not amateurs?”  
“Y'know, I never pegged you for a criminal.”  
“I’m not a criminal, the world revolves around money. Whoever has money has power.” She said.  
“What do you want it for?”  
“Don’t worry about that.”  
The two older men looked at each other.  
“You gotta swear, though,” Michael warned. “That if for any reason this shit goes sideways and you, for some reason, get caught: you don’t know us. You don’t have any connection to what happens, you don’t say a fuckin’ word to whoever asks. Otherwise, you gotta go. If you look out for us, we’ll look out for you. Got it?”  
“I think I can handle that,” she said sarcastically. She brandished her phone from her pocket and exchanged phone numbers with both of them. They also shared a number for their third guy she hadn’t seen yet. Franklin Clinton.  
“We’ll talk about this more tomorrow,” Michael said. “Go back to- whatever you were doing. We’ll pick a meeting spot and keep you updated, I guess.”  
“Cool, you do that. You know where to find me,” Rosa said, turning and continuing toward the De Santa’s home to sit with Tracey and Amanda. She ignored Trevor shouting another ‘see you later’ at her and went inside.  
  


“Tommie!” Lita called from downstairs. “Can you go skim the pool, please?”  
“Okay!” She left her computer and headed out to the back yard. Their pool was smaller than the De Santa’s, but it was still the right size for just the two of them living there.  
The detached building behind their house stayed unlocked and was home to all the miscellaneous outdoor stuff they owned- as well as holiday decorations packed up in plastic bins. The pool skimmer was kept on a hook on the back of the door, and she quickly snatched it up and went back outside.  
“ _Heeeeey!_ ”  
She nearly died of a heart attack when she saw Trevor walking up the side of her house.  
“ _What the shit are you doing here?_ ” She hissed. “My mom is home, she’s going to lose her shit if she sees you!”  
“What? I’m picking you up.” He shrugged. “We have our meeting spot, so I figured I’d give you a ride there.”  
“Well, I’m busy right now.” She said, proceeding to drag the net of the skimmer through the pool. There weren’t leaves, but bugs and the occasional floating dead frog got stuck in the filter and messed up the flow. “Can we do this later?”  
“I get that you’re young and new to this whole crime thing, but no. We can not do this later. Lesson One: 'It’s now or never’, so do you wanna get paid or not?”  
“Shit.” She muttered. “Fuck- fine, hang on.” She set the skimmer down on the concrete and moved a little closer to the house. “ _Hey, mom?_ ” She called. “I have to go take care of something, I’ll be back in a while! I’ll clean the pool when I get back!”  
“Uh- alright Tommie, don’t be gone too long!” Lita’s muffled voice responded from inside.  
Rosa motioned to Trevor to lead the way, and she followed him to the street where his trashy red truck was parked. The plates read “BETTY 32” and there was a teddy bear with a missing eye and a red thong lodged into the front grille.  
“What’s up with the bear?” She chuckled.  
“That’s Mr. Raspberry Jam. He keeps me company when I get lonely on the road.” He stroked the bear’s head and smirked suggestively to himself as he walked around the front of the truck to the driver’s seat. “Who’s 'Tommie’? I thought you were Rosa.”  
“Tommie’s my first name. Rosa’s my middle name. Rosalinda.”  
“Nice name,” he answered absently. He started the truck and pulled a U-turn.  
“I hate it.”  
He frowned. “Because it’s a guy name?”  
“'Cause it’s my coke dealer dad’s name.” She scoffed. “…Hey, how’d you figure out which house was mine?”  
He looked over at her and winked. “I might’ve peeked in between a few fences.”  
She looked back at him, shooting him a nasty glare- only now noticing the tattoo of the dotted line around his threat and the phrase “CUT HERE”.  
“Ah, well, so much for privacy,” she said. “If you’re gonna be sneaking around my house, you can  _not_  be doing that when my mom is around.”  
“I’m surprised you’re not telling me not to come around at all.”  
“You’re gonna do what you’re gonna do. Just don’t do it if there’s a white Lampadati in the driveway. That’s hers.”  
“You don’t drive?”  
“I do. I just don’t have a car. I usually get a ride or call a cab, or… walk.”  
“Alright, well- Lesson Two about crime: now that you’re with us, you’re gonna make good money as long as you do your job and do it well. Use it to get a decent car.”  
“That’s step one.” She nodded. “Step two is bank it away.”  
“And what, pray tell, is it for? C'mon, I gotta know.”  
She groaned. “ _College, alright?_  I’m gonna go back to college.”  
“What degree is so expensive that you’re willing to rob a bank to make the money?”  
“Believe it or not, I actually kinda give a shit about the environment. I wanna be a marine biologist. A doctor. That’s not cheap and I’m willing to do anything other than sell my body. I have an associate already, but I need to push farther. Where are we going?”  
“Out to Strawberry. That’s where I keep my base of operations.”

“You work out of a strip club?” She asked, incredulous. “That’s not exactly low profile.”  
“The bills get paid, I get free liquor-” a couple of topless women in their panties walked by, both saying hello to Trevor. He Rosa both paused to stare. “And I get to look at that all day. I have no complaints.”  
“Hey, Trevor! Have you heard from Floyd or Debra at all?” A young man called from the VIP room. When they looked over, Rosa saw that the person trying to get the older man’s attention wasn’t much older than her. Baggy clothes, dreadlocks, and lots of piercings on his face. Another weirdo.  
“Not yet, Wade. I’m gonna keep trying.” Trevor brushed off his friend’s question and headed to the back of the club.  
“Who are Floyd and Debra?” Rosa asked.  
“Nobody. Dead people.”  
“Seems like your friend there doesn’t know.”  
“Let’s keep it that way.”  
She followed him through the dressing room and into his office, where Michael and who she assumed was Franklin we’re waiting for them.  
“'Sup, T?” The young black man greeted. He didn’t seem to be much older than Rosa. He maintained a very neutral expression, and Rosa could tell that he was probably the glue of the group. The one who kept Michael and Trevor from killing each other. Somebody had to do it.  
“Not much, my homie,” Trevor replied, going in for a fist bump… which Franklin clearly only participated in to get him to put his hand down.  
“This our girl?” Frankly asked.  
“Yeah, but she’s not just 'our girl’, she’s gonna be our money angel.”  
“I still think this is a terrible fucking idea,” Michael shook his head.  
“So was working with the FIB, but you didn’t see me bitching every step of the way.”  
“That is LITERALLY WHAT YOU FUCKING DID.”  
Rosa looked to Franklin while the two older men threw petty comments back and forth. “Is this normal for them?”  
Franklin shook his head. “Ain’t no fuckin’ thang as normal with these old assholes. Shit…” He offered a hand to her. “I’m Franklin. Sorry you gotta put up with this shit from now on.”  
“Rosa.” She shook his hand. “Is this everyone; just a three man group?”  
“Nah, we waitin’ on our last guy.”  
“Took you long enough!” Trevor briefly stopped arguing with Michael to greet a fat man with a cane who hobbled in through the back door. “Did you waddle the whole way here?”  
“I took a cab, smart ass,” the stranger said as he pushed up his large glasses. “Hello, Michael. Franklin. Tommie.”  
“ _Rosa_ ,” she corrected. “How do you know that?”  
“I know everything there is to know about everyone, ” he replied, moving closer and shaking her hand. “Lester Crest. I’m the computer guy. I did some research on you earlier this morning. I also was able to get a look at you through the webcam on your computer.”  
“ _Oh my fucking god_ -” She glared at him, feeling violated. She didn’t even notice the other men in the room stifle laughter. She’d actually forgotten they were even there for a second. She had to actively try to remember if she had gotten dressed or undressed in the vicinity of her computer at any point that day. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?”  
“Put a strip of tape over it if you don’t wanna be watched. Anybody else could be watching, and believe me- they probably were. Now, I had to vet you before I could put any faith in you pulling this off.”  
She gave him a look that demanded he say nothing. Nobody needed to know where she came from. “Now, moving on- the heist.”  
“What'chu got?” Franklin asked as he and the others gathered around Lester.  
“I didn’t draw up any diagrams or anything- we’re past that. Masks, uniforms, guns, speed, and a pound of C-4. You know how to rob a bank. We went over it yesterday. You go in after she leaves the front door, shoot out the cameras, and maintain control. Now- Rosa, your job is a little more complex and it’s your first time working a heist, so most of this instruction is for you.” He fished around in his pocket and removed a black device about that was about the size of a book. “This right here is used to remotely short a pre-programmed circuit up to one hundred feet away.”  
She took the device from him and turned it in her hand. “This is the kind of shit terrorists use. Where did you get this?”  
“That’s for me to know. You’re going to conceal it in your purse, take it into the bank, and press the 'on’ button when you’re In range of the vault. It’ll short the lock. The vault won’t open, but it’ll keep security from being alerted when these three blow it open, and then you’ll look like you weren’t  involved. But you’ll still need to get out of there fast once the police get word of what’s going on.”  
“Won’t they notice something’s wrong if I just walk in, reach into a bag, and walk out? I don’t even own a purse.”  
“Buy one.  And you can go up to the counter and talk to one of the employees. Act like you have business there. I’d recommend wearing something  _short_.”  
“Yes!” Trevor muttered on the side.  
She stared at Lester through narrowed eyes. “What the fuck for?”  
“Nobody’ll even notice the bag you’re carrying if they’re too busy staring at you. Okay, recap: go in, press the button, get the hell out. Think you can handle it?”  
“How much money am I getting?”  
“How does $400,000 sound?”  
“Like I’m gonna buy a nice fuckin’ car!”  
Michael, who had been quiet up to that point, shook his head. “How’s she gonna get out of there before the cops show if she doesn’t even have a car to drive now?”  
“I can find one for her,” Trevor shrugged. “What kind do you want?”  
“Something inconspicuous.”  
“Done. We’ll grab something inconspicuous on the way back to your place.”  
“Anythang else?” Franklin asked.  
“That should be it,” Lester said. “We meet back at the garment factory once we’ve lost the police and we’ll divide the earnings. Aaaaaand break!”  
Nobody moved.  
“You all could use a lesson in what 'break’ means.”  
Everyone headed for the doors to prep for the heist; and on her way out, Rosa stopped to speak to Lester. “If you look at me through my computer again, I’ll show you some things you don’t want to see.” She looked at the others when she whispered into his ear. They didn’t appear to notice the sidebar.  
Lester didn’t even seem fazed by her threat at first- until he saw her unchanging expression. “Fine,” he muttered. “But we’re going to have to talk about your lineage and arrest record sometime.”  
“You don’t need to know anything and neither do they.”  
  
“Now that doesn’t sound too complicated, right?” Trevor asked as he and Rosa left the Vanilla Unicorn and headed back to her house.  
“It’s a little more– technical than I thought it would be,” she shrugged. “Don’t you guys ever just go in, guns blazing?”  
“Nope, but that’s how we leave.”  
They were quiet for a little while.  
“How many times have you guys done this before?”  
“Quite a few. Back in the day it was just me, Michael, and another guy named Brad. But now Brad’s dead, Michael’s gone soft, and we have Franklin. We robbed the bank at Paleto Bay, Union Depository-”  
“Union Depository was  _you_?” She gasped. “That’s insane! Y-you must be millionaires by now- why keep robbing banks?”  
“Like you said, gorgeous,” he smirked. “'The world revolves around money’. We’re doing this tomorrow, y'know; so I hope you don’t have anything else going on.”  
Tomorrow was Monday.  
Monday meant work.  
“I have a regular job,” she groaned. “I- I can call off, but-” that would be the second time in three weeks. And with such short notice…?  
“We can’t reschedule,” Trevor sniffed. “You’re gonna have to decide.”  
This bank job would be sure to pay more than her minimum wage retail job.  
So… one more day off couldn’t hurt, right? Just one?  
“I’ll call right now, I guess,” she said uneasily. She slid her phone from her pocket, dialed her manager, and cupped a hand over the phone to block the wind.  
 _“Hello?”_  Her manager, Cheryl, answered on the other side.  
“Hey, Cheryl,” Rosa tried to sound casual. “How are you doin’ today?”  
 _“Oh, hey Rosa,”_  Cheryl said cheerfully on the other side.  _“Everything’s fine here. Slow day. How are you?”  
_ “I’m doing okay- I was just wondering if…” she trailed off awkwardly. “Well- I forgot I had a doctor’s appointment tomorrow at nine. I don’t know how long it’s gonna go for…”  
Cheryl sounded worried.  _“Are you okay? Do you know what’s going on?”  
_ “It’s nothing serious, I think. Just-” she glanced over at Trevor. They’d stopped at a red light and she noticed he’d been watching her- tentatively. “Just not feeling so good. I was throwing up a lot last night and this morning.”  
Cheryl was quiet on the other side for a moment.  _“Oh… Okay, I’ll ask Dennis to take your shift.”_  She sounded apprehensive.  _“Feel better, okay? Keep me in the loop.”  
_ “Thank you so much.” Rosa said. “I’ll let you know what’s going on. Bye.”  
She ended the call, sighing and dropping her phone into her lap. “There, it’s handled.”  
“No offense, but you handle conflict like a girl.”  
“I am a girl.”  
“No, you’re a grown woman! You’re gonna have to start grabbing life by the dick and learn to jerk it the way you want it to go!” He even added hand gestures.  
She couldn’t even attempt to hold back a laugh. “ _Oh, fuck you!_ ”  
“Whoa!” He laughed with her. “At least share some drinks with me first!”  
“ _Uggggghhh!_ ”


	4. The Talk

_“left u a car outside ur driveway. keys r hiden in front left tire and lesters box thing is in the trunk ;)”_  
Trevor’s text came later on that same evening when Rosa was at home, in between other messages from a guy friend. Logan. She was hesitant to send a reply to Trevor, but ended up typing out a simple “ _thanks_ ” and sending it.  
While she was in the middle of replying to a different message, she received another from Trevor.  
_“by the way i dont think u anserd my ? the othr day.”_  
“What was it?”  
“got a boyfriend? ;)”  
She rolled her eyes and ignored the message thread from then on. She instead gathered her things for the heist.  
Lester recommended something short and distracting, so… Shorts.  
She grabbed her favorite pair of cutoffs- the ones that just barely came down below the bottom of her ass. She never really wore them unless she was in her back yard- those were sure to distract.  
What else?  
A low cut T-shirt and push-up bra. Easy!  
Her phone chimed again with a new message.  
_“college and a car cant b the only thing ur spnding that $ on. we can cum up with something waaaaaaay more fun”_  
Trevor again.  
Clearly he would not be ignored.  
So she replied:  _“What did you have in mind?”_  
She set the outfit and a pair of flip-flops aside and searched her closet for a bag.  
Her phone chimed again, this time a message from Logan.  
_“Wanna hang out tomorrow when you get off work? I’ll be at the course all day but we can get lunch.”_  
Her phone chimed once more- Trevor had replied within a minute. Why did he want to buddy up to her so bad?  
_“any thing u want gorgeous ;) the sky is the limit and I can b ur guide”_  
She typed out her reply to Logan: _“Sounds fun, can’t wait to see you tomorrow!”_  
Another text from Trevor moments later.  _“ha! i knew u wud warm up 2 me!”_  
Wait- Shit, she sent that last message to Trevor by accident. Her cheeks felt hot with embarrassment as the wrote out the same reply to send to Logan, and ignored Trevor from then on.  
In fact, her phone was put on silent for the rest of the night. She’d just ignore that moment even happened and continue to prep for the Fleeca job.  
  
She spent the rest of the night feeling anxious, and dreading the possibilities of what could go wrong with this heist. Dinner was…quiet.  
“Hey, mom?” She had been quiet through most of the meal.  
Lita had noticed that, but didn’t mention anything. Communication was usually very open with the two of them. “Yeeeees?”  
Rosa tried to think of the best way to phrase the question. “What- what did you and dad used to do?”  
Lita glanced at her, feeling a sinking feeling in her chest. She grabbed the glass of wine she poured for herself and took a decently sized gulp. “We did a lot of stupid things. But I loved him. So I was in it for the long haul.”  
Rosa leaned in closer attentively. “Like what?”  
“Well… you’re old enough to know the truth,” Lita said, shrugging and downing the rest of her wine. “I’ve put this off for a long time.” Talking about Tommy made her sad. Rosa never really saw her mother be upset over him, but she could hear Lita cry at night from time to time when she was younger. Now she drank or spent time helping others to cope.  
Lita sighed, pouring herself another glass of wine and pushing her emptied dinner plate toward the other side of the kitchen island. “I know I haven’t told you before, but I was homeless when I was your age.”  
Rosa’s jaw immediately dropped. “What? Why?”  
Lita shrugged. “Me and my parents were refugees. We came to Vice City when I was seventeen. I’d lived most of my life in Havana, then we went to Mariel, and then Florida. They called the refugees ‘Marielitos’. That’s where I got my nickname. ‘Marie _lita_ ’. Well- and because my old friend Umberto Robina used to call me Lo _lita_. Instead of just Lola, my actual name.” She smiled faintly. Umberto and his father had been good to her. Family friends.  
“Why don’t you have an accent? You spent so much time in Cuba.” Rosa frowned.  
“And let the racist assholes of Florida in the 80’s try to force me back on the boat? _Hell no_ , I had to adapt. We all did. Anyway, got off topic. My mom and dad died when the Haitian gangs shot up the neighborhood, I stayed with Umberto and his dad for a short while, and then when I was twenty, I just-” she shrugged again. “-ran off. I sold pot to afford to eat, ran with the Cuban gangs until I was twenty three, found a stash of cocaine, sold it-”  
“ _You were a coke dealer too?_ ” Rosa found herself giving her mother the same look Ken had given her just a few nights earlier.  
“I was. Then your dad had me picked up off the street, had a gun to my head and everything. Turns out I stole his product and sold some of it back to his own guys. He wasn’t very happy.” Lita chuckled at the memory. “I liked him when I first saw him. He was a lot older than me but… I thought he was  _really_  hot.” She laughed, feeling her face turn red with blush. It was an extremely terrible way to meet the man you’d marry, but it became a joke between them.  
Rosa got a strange feeling in her stomach at that. Trevor was much older than her too; and he was… interesting. Hot? No. No way. But he had a weird, weird, SUPER WEIRD charm about him that made him slightly less appalling… kinda.  
_Ew, stop having good thoughts about Trevor…_  
“So we worked out a deal,” Lita continued. “I worked for him instead of independently, and he gave me money to live in a nice hotel room.”  
“What did you do for him?” Rosa asked almost robotically.  
“Well-” Lita winced, pausing to drink from her glass again. “I might have… sold more. And gone with him for business negotiations. And…” she spoke quieter. “Handled business related conflicts.”  
“The fuck does that mean? You killed people!?” Rosa was horrified. Sure, she was about to rob a bank- but to hear that her own mother had committed  _murder!?_  That was a little extreme.  
“We had to, Tommie,” she said, setting a hand on her daughter’s back. “They were bad.”  
“You were in the  _mafia!_ ”  
“They would’ve just as quickly killed me and your father if we hadn’t been quicker. It was a scary time, and it was a hard life. But after all the work we did, your dad and I fell in love. We got married when I was twenty six. We were rich! We owned most of the town and had a lot of fun. Then I got pregnant three years later.” Completely unplanned. They’d never planned to have kids- it just wasn’t their style. Lita never knew she could love a child until she was pregnant. “I was afraid, but I was happy. I was having a baby with the man I loved.”  
“And then he kicked you out.”  
“Where did you hear that?” Lita frowned.  
Rosa shrugged. “I assumed.”  
“He didn’t kick me out. I left. I didn’t want to raise you in a town like that.”  
“Like Los Santos is any better,” Rosa sneered. “What about dad? Did he even care that you left?”  
“Of course he did,” Lita looked pained. How could her daughter not understand that he really did want to be there for them? She should’ve told her this sooner. “He argued with me for days about leaving. I wanted him to come with me. I ended up leaving in the middle of the night. I knew Ken was out here so I hopped on the first plane to Las Venturas and he helped me figure it out from there. Tommy sent people to come find me. Then I met Carl, and he helped me. Then he and Ken helped us move out here when you were little, remember?”  
“ _CJ’s in all of this too?_ ” Rosa gasped.  
“Oh god,” Lita sighed. “It’s all such a long story, Tommie. I can’t possibly tell all of it in one sitting. But no, Carl didn’t work with your dad or anything. They’ve never met.”  
Rosa made a note to call up CJ or Ken and ask what happened in Las Venturas. She knew there was more to this.  
“But that’s all the story we have for right now,” Lita said. She rubbed her eyes, emotionally drained from recalling the moment she last saw Tommy.  
Things were silent for a few minutes.  
“Please tell me what you’re thinking,” Lita said softly. She felt like she turned her daughter’s world upside down- she grew up with the illusion of her mother having been tame and average in her youth. Now this.  
_I think being a fucking degenerate is genetic._  “I think that’s a lot of information.”  
“It is. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I hope this doesn’t make you feel like I’m a bad mother…”  
Rosa laughed. “You left behind everything for a kid you didn’t plan. That’s more than he would’ve done.”  
Lita stood out of her chair and hugged her daughter. “I love you,” she said. “And I know he would too if you got to meet him.”  
“I don’t wanna meet him,” Rosa said quietly, arms around her mom’s middle. She meant it. She had enough crazy older men in her life by now. Shit, especially now. “But I love you too, mom.”  
  
The Fleeca bank on the Great Ocean Highway near Banham Cayon wasn’t an especially busy one. Less crowd control was probably why they’d picked it in the first place.  
Rosa barely slept the night before. Between preparing to rob a bank and hearing stories about her family’s past, how could she sleep?  
She parked the car Trevor provided (a dark blue Ubermacht Oracle) across the highway by a convenience store, away from where the external security cameras were pointed.  
Dressed in her chosen outfit, she felt sort of exposed as she left the car, backpack slung over her shoulder with Lester’s device. She crossed the narrow road, walked up the stairs of the footbridge, and crossed.  
A bank robbery where she was the only one not armed or wearing protective gear? Why did she agree to this?  
She froze halfway on the bridge.  
She could still back out.  
Go back to the car, drive away, tell Lester his machine didn’t work and that she wasn’t interested in working with them again.  
But she just kept walking.  
Besides, they’d probably kill her if she left them like that. Like _literally_ kill her.  
That’d suck.  
After crossing the bridge, walking back down to street level and coming to the side of the bank, she took a quick second to adjust herself. Smooth out her hair, tug at her shorts, adjust her boobs to look a little more pushed up- ready.  
She took a deep breath, let it out, and proceeded to stride up to the door with an added feminine flair to her walk. Shoulders back, hips swaying. The illusion of confidence!  
She pushed the glass door open and walked up to the teller behind the counter. She chose the male one.  
“Hi,” she said sweetly as she approach him.  
She actually saw his eyes pan downward for a second- pretty much what Lester had planned for.  
“Good morning, ma'am,” he smiled awkwardly. “What can I do for you? And can I say- you look very nice today.”  
“Oh, thank you!” She read his name tag. Kevin. She saw the wedding ring on his finger. What a douche. “I was hoping I could open an account.”  
“Sure, can I see some I.D.?”  
“Absolutely,” she feigned a smile, sliding the backpack off of her shoulder and hooking the straps over her opposite forearm. She bent forward slightly as she unzipped it and dug around inside. Cleavage made a fantastic distraction. He wouldn’t look into her backpack.  
She found the button on the machine and pressed it, grabbing her wallet that was right beside it. She removed it from the bag, zipped it shut, and passed him her driver’s license. “Here you go,” she said cheerfully.  
Did it work?  
There was no indication. She would just have to trust that it did.  
“Tommie,” he read her name out as he typed it in. “That’s a pretty name.”  
_Ugh._  “Thank you,” she beamed. “That’s real sweet.”  
He smiled to himself and typed out a few more things. He made small talk in between and she responded to him like she was interested- ultimately anxious to get out immediately. She’d rush out as soon as-  
“Alright, and with a starting balance of $20, your account is all set up. I’ll send you an electronic copy of your account information and it should be with you in about ten minutes.”  
“Thank you so much, sir,” she grinned. The payoff of that $20 would soon be twenty thousand times worth that. Now that was a thought to smile about!  
“My pleasure,” he replied. “And if you need anything else-” he passed her a business card for the bank- one with his personal information on it. “Give me a call sometime. Maybe we can trade cell numbers.”  
“Maybe next time I come in,” she winked, sliding her arms through both straps of her backpack and heading out the door. She spotted a black van nearby and a familiar face looking out- Michael De Santa.  
She gave a slight nod, turned the opposite direction, and strode away from the bank- breaking into a run for her car when she was out of range of the security cameras.  
  
She was barefoot by the time she got back to the car. Flip-flops were not meant for running and they fell off on the bridge somewhere. Her hands were shaking when she unlocked the car doors and yanked the driver’s side open. She froze when she heard gunshots and knew the party had started.  
Thoughts of possible violence aside, she hurriedly got behind the wheel, slammed the door shut, and sped off to quickly merge onto the GOH.  
The loud shouting of OFF!’s song What’s Next? blasting through the radio, along with the adrenaline of having just helped three men rob a bank was… exhilarating!  
Insanely so.  
“$400,000!” She thought aloud despite being unable to hear herself over the music. “Holy fuck, I actually did it!” Sure, she wasn’t the one who robbed the bank, but she participated- an easy paycheck!  
By the time she reached the Del Perro Beach area, she was ecstatic- she couldn’t even hear her phone ringing until the song on the radio ended.  
She scrambled to answer the call, dialing down the radio as she tapped the screen to answer the call. “What’s up?”  
_“It’s L,”_  Lester’s voice greeted from the other side.  _“I need you to get out to the garment factory- I’m texting you the address.”_  
“Okay-” Lester had hung up before she even finished speaking, and his text appeared almost as soon as she brought her phone away from her ear.

The Darnell Bros. factory on Popular St. in La Mesa. Her GPS marked the way.  
“What took you so long? I called an hour ago!” Lester scolded as he waddled out of the garment factory out to where Rosa parked.  
“It’s not my fault you picked the place all the fucking way across town to rob,” Rosa defended as she got out of the seat. “Are they still there?”  
“No,” he said, walking around to the driver’s side. “Losing the police as we speak. Where’s the box?”  
She reached for the backpack. “Hang on– there.” She passed the bag to him.  
“Good,” he said, sliding it up onto his shoulder. “Now- because you’re a first timer and the car is basically disposable, you can do whatever you want with it. I’d suggest you get rid of it- Trevor probably stole it.”  
“How do I get rid of a stolen car?”  
“Los Santos Customs is a block away. They’ll sell anything,” he said before pushing up his glasses. “It’ll be a while before the others get here, so you can either wait or go handle that… Personally, I’d like to take this chance to have that talk.”  
“ _Holy fuck!_ ” Rosa was immediately angered, leaning against the car and crossing her arms. “Can we not? It’s not your goddamn business.”  
“We’re doing business and you were arrested like a week ago. _It very much is my goddamn business._ ”  
“Jesus fucking-” she growled irritably. She realized she had balled her right hand into a fist… Was she seriously ready to hit him? That was unlike her. “ _Fine!_  Can we do this inside? Not out here?”  
“Fine whatever, just park the car under the bridge. It’s out in the open right here. I’ll meet you upstairs.” He turned away from her unceremoniously and hobbled back into the garment factory.


	5. Logan From The Golf Course

“So your mother,” Lester began. “Is she the only one you live with?”  
“Yeah.”  
“What about your dad?”  
“Mr. Vercetti doesn’t live with us. Never   met the guy.” She crossed her arms and slouched into the creaky roller chair. Lester had settled into a wheelchair for comfort and whatever mobility he needed. “So you’re not actually affiliated with him,” he noted. “Good, I’d hate having some Italian mafioso guys come kicking down doors looking for the guys who got a mob daughter to rob a bank.”  
“I don’t think they would. It’s been twenty years since Tommy last gave a shit.” She huffed.  
“So what about that arrest?”  
“I got caught shoplifting. Nothing huge. First time I ever got caught.”  
“What else have you done?”  
“I mean,” she went quiet. “I have robbed convenience stores and gas stations. Armed. With a mask. A bank is new territory, but single-manned stores are cake. I’ve sold pot too.”  
“Christ,” Lester muttered. “It’s no wonder why Trevor likes you, you’re a lot like him. And other obvious reasons.” He gestured to her cleavage- and she promptly pulled up the front of her shirt. “Only that’s the kind of small shit you do when you don’t care if you get caught. If you get arrested for what we do as a group, you can expect to spend a lot of time behind bars.”  
“What exactly _does_ Trevor do?” She asked. “It seems like people become on edge around him but he doesn’t seem that bad to me. Weird and kinda creepy, but…”  
“I’ll give you a hint,” Lester said, shaking his head. “He’s the kind of guy who will cannibalize you and then smoke meth while not thinking twice about how he just ate a human being.”  
“Jesus Christ, how did he even become friends with Franklin and Mr. De Santa?”  
“It’s a long story.”  
They overheard the front doors open, followed by multiple sets of heavy footsteps.  
Rosa stood up and turned around, seeing Franklin, Michael, and Trevor all come up the stairs and start removing the outer layers of their outfits. Bulletproof vests, masks, gloves, etc.  
“How’d it go?” Lester asked, easing himself out of his wheelchair with the help of his cane.  
Michael’s thin lips curled into a smile, but before he could share any details-  
“Fan- _fucking_ -tastic!” Trevor hooted, slamming a heavy duffel bag onto the creaky wooden floor. Franklin and Michael carried identical ones, all equal in weight. He rushed up to Rosa, picked her up as spun her in a circle, much to her displeasure. “I love this girl!”  
“Put me down!” She couldn’t help but laugh. That was the easiest money she’d ever make, and she was elated! But Trevor was sweaty and she was kinda grossed out by it.  
“As you can see, everything went pretty smooth,” Michael told Lester as Trevor and Rosa carried on.  
“Excellent,” Lester beamed. “Any problem losing the cops?”  
Franklin watched as Rosa finally squirmed out of Trevor’s grip and adjusted her shirt. Damn, she really put those things out there for this- “We was outta there before they even showed up. Disablin’ security made shit a whole lot easier.”  
“Good,” Lester said shortly. “As usual, I’ll handle the laundering process. You can expect to see this routed into your bank accounts in about two weeks.”  
“Two  _weeks!?_ ” Rosa interjected. “I thought this was an instant payout.”  
“That’s what you’re used to,” Lester explained. “I need to ensure that this money is untraceable back to us. That involves time and effort.”  
“Fuck, man…” she sighed. “I was so excited.  
"You can stay excited,” Michael said. “Because you can help us with more jobs now that we know you’re up for it. There’s gonna be more money flow than you’ll know what to do with.”  
“Seriously?” Her face lit up.  
“Seriously.” Michael nodded. “You’re part of the team now, baby!”  
  
The men shed the rest of their gear and swapped for their own clothing. Their heist outfits were then packed into paper bags along with any remaining evidence to be incinerated. Lester had arranged to have the black van towed away, brought to a scrap yard, then compressed with a crusher and never found again. Meanwhile, Rosa handled taking the car to LS Customs and sold it for a bonus reward of $10,000. The transaction was easy and quick, and she ended up leaving the garage with cash in hand- which she did her best to fold and put into her pockets. Lester had kept her backpack and she didn’t have much room to carry the bills on her person. Her pockets bulged with hundred dollar bills- and she understood why the men did this kind of thing. Having money was so satisfying.  
She was pulling the bottom of her tank top down to help cover up her pockets when she walked around to the street and found Trevor waiting for her in his truck. “Get in, I’ll give you a ride home.”  
“Cool, thanks.” She said, walking around to the passenger side and letting herself in. “So what exactly did you guys do at the bank? Bombs and guns?”  
“Something like that- buckle up.” He wouldn’t back out onto the road until she did. She obeyed, and then they were on their way. “We blew the safe open, Franklin kept anyone from being a hero, Michael and I filled the bags. Like a walk in the park- and we owe it to you. Nice getup, by the way.”  
“Thanks, I’m never wearing it again.”  
“Why? It looks good.”  
“My tits are practically  _out_.”  
“That’s why it looks good!”  
She sighed and adjusted her breasts again, taking care to cover them better. Trevor tried to peak over, but couldn’t see anything regardless.  
“Can I get you to wait for me at my house for a little bit?” They’d been quiet for a little while. The radio had filled the silence up to this point. “I totally forgot I was going to Richman today but I wanna change clothes and put away this money first.”  
Trevor looked over at her, tapping on the steering wheel. “What’s in Richman?”  
“Just something I wanted to do today.”  
“Can I come?”  
“It’s kind of a ‘just me’ thing.”  
That piqued his interest. “What is it?”  
They reached Rockford Hills, and were approaching her house. He would park on the street between where she and Michael lived.  
“I’m gonna meet with one of my friends,” she said when they pulled up. Trevor put the truck in park and she jumped out- barefoot, he noted. What happened to her shoes?  
She ran up to her house and disappeared from his sight.  
He waited several minutes, idly resting his arm over the door and tapping his palm on the side of the dirty truck.  
His phone chimed- a text.  
From Patricia.  
 _“I know I should not give you false hopes but I miss you Trevor I have been thinking of you and I hope that you are being good and do not have a hard time finding ways to be happy xo patricia”_  
He felt the same heavy feeling in his chest then as he did when he gave her back to her husband. The weight of emotion was horrible.  
 _“i miss u to patricia. i wish we cud make us work. remmbr that if ur husbnd hurts u 1 more time ill kill him and take u away fr myself. ill always luv u.”_  
He’d mangle somebody for some crystal right then. It’d numb the pain.  
“Back!” Rosa greeted as she jogged back out to the truck, pulling him from his thoughts. She came back in different clothes- rolled up jeans, a deep V-neck, and skate shoes. “Sorry I took so long.”  
Trevor didn’t speak right away- or even oggle like she was used to by now. He just put the truck in drive and went on.  
“What were you planning again?” He asked sometime later. He was hoping he could convince her to keep him company by this point. He felt lonely after talking to Patricia. He didn’t want to feel that way.  
“Just lunch out at the golf club. I’m meeting my guy-friend there.”  
He felt a pang of disappointment. “I thought uou said you didn’t have a boyfriend!”  
She frowned. “I never said that.”  
“What’s the little turd’s name?”  
“Why do you  _need_ to know?”  
“Lesson Three, I think: When you’re part of a group, you look out for each other,” he said sternly. “And now that you’re one of our crew, and also the youngest, and also the only woman, I-  _we_ , are going to be extra watchful over your well being.”  
She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much of her personal life needed to be known. But she couldn’t hide it all forever. With being Michael’s neighbor and Lester already having traced her lineage, it was only a matter of time before the truth came out. “His name is Logan, alright?”  
“Where does he work? How old is he?”  
“He’s twenty four and he works at the Golf Club. He’s a-.”  
“ _Looooogan from the goooooolf cooooourse_. Sounds like a hoity-toity rich kid.” He laughed. “I gotta see this guy, he sounds like a lil’ bitch-boy. Please tell me you didn’t  _'give it up’_  for a total pussy like that.”  
“Who I have sex with isn’t any of your business.”  
“If we’re gonna keep working together then it kind of is.”  
She was pissed off- unwilling to argue with him by now Lester described him; but she had a lot to say to him. She had to settle with- “Shut up and drive, Trevor.”  
“What, I think you can do better!”  
“You don’t even know him! You want better? Name somebody. Go ahead.”  
“Like  _me_ , for example.”  
 _That was pretty fucking direct._  
Ultimately- he’d only said it because he was lonely. But neither of them realized that. All she heard was an older man trying to get into her pants.  
“ _You?_ ” She crossed her arms- defensive.  
“Yeah, why not? I’m a business man. Got my own corporation- Trevor Philips Industries. I’m a multi-millionaire already even without it. And I’m not too bad in bed either, if I do say so myself.”  
“You’re like thirty years older than me! And you’re a fucking bank robber. No offense, but you don’t fit the demographic I’m into.”  
“Yet you don’t have a problem with being that kind of person, yourself.”  
“That’s different.” She muttered. They pulled into the spot in the parking lot of the golf course and sat in the truck for a short moment.  
“How is it  _any_  different?” He argued. “You act like any of the other idealistic, basic floor model chick Los Santos has to offer- but the difference is that you’re actually just as bad as we are. You knowingly participated in a robbery and cashed out. You telling me that I’m not good enough for you would be just like  _Bitch-Boy-Logan_  telling you the same thing-”  
“I don’t have to listen to this,” she interrupted, unbuckling and stepping out of the truck. “Don’t bother trying to text me again.” She slammed the passenger door shut and strode away, arms crossed.  
“Hey!” He called after her, practically standing up in his seat.  
“Fuck off, Trevor!” She didn’t turn around to look at him, instead breaking into a jog to get indoors.   
He watched her let the door fall shut behind her back and she disappeared inside. He settled back down behind the wheel, putting the truck into drive- angry.  
He couldn’t just let her leave like that. He– kind of had to admit that he fucked up.  
But he’d never say that out loud.  
“Fucking-” he muttered, putting the truck back into park and getting out. “You want 'someone better’? I’ll show you someone better.” He walked up to the Golf Club and let himself in, shoving aside the first polo-wearing asshole who was in his way.  
  
“Hey, Logan!” She greeted him when she saw him.  
She noticed that didn’t seem excited to see her at first, but recovered quickly. “Hey, Rosa,” he said almost awkwardly as she came in for a hug. She kissed him hard on the lips, both excited to see him and still vaguely riding the rush of the Fleeca job. “You’re early.”  
“Got out of work a little earlier than usual today,” she lied. “You ready?”  
“Actually, I-”  
Another woman approached them, carrying two Bean Machine lattes. “They were out of caramel, so I ended up getting mocha.” She was smiley and pretty, but seemingly younger. She had to be eighteen. She kissed Logan on the cheek as she handed him his coffee. Her tank top was low on her chest, just like Rosa’s had been for the heist- and she pushed her breasts against Logan’s arm as she took a sip of her own drink. Only then did she notice Rosa.   
“Hi!” She greeted.  
“Who the fuck are you?” Rosa asked. She looked to Logan.  
“I’m his girlfriend,” the other girl answered, looking every bit as perturbed as Rosa.  
“Girlfriend!?” Rosa gasped.  
The other girl pulled away from Logan. “Babe, who is this?”  
“Nobody,” he defended. “She’s a friend I used to hang out with.”  
Rosa snapped. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? We’ve been having sex for  _four months!_ ”  
“You’ve been cheating on me!?” The other girl shrieked. “I- I don’t- You-!” she got teary eyed- and then suddenly remembered the coffee she was holding. She ripped off the plastic top and threw the contents of the cup at his shirt- making him cry out in pain as the steaming hot coffee soaked through his sky blue polo. “Fuck you, Logan!” His now ex-girlfriend shouted. She ran away from him, trying to conceal tears.  
“Ellie, wait!” He called after her, starting to follow.  
But Rosa blocked his path. “So; how long have you been dating?” All eyes were on them by now; including Trevor who stopped just short of a yard away from them when he saw Ellie splash coffee onto Logan. The scene made him forget why he even came in in the first place.  
“Jesus fucking Christ, Rosa! You just ruined my relationship!” Logan’s accusing tone set her off.  
 _“NO, ASSHOLE;_ YOU _RUINED YOUR RELATIONSHIP.”_  She shouted, squaring up to him despite him being much taller and more muscular. “I swear to  _fucking_  god, I’m gonna-”  
 _“What?”_  Logan’s tone changed. Now cornered with nothing else to lose, she was just as disposable to him as an expired condom. He loomed over her, threateningly. “What are you gonna do?  _Nothing_. Now unless you wanna lie on your fucking back again and make it up to me the way I like-”  
That was enough for Trevor. He began to advance, ready to punch the little shit in the face-  
But Rosa was faster. She ripped the latte out of his hand, tore off the plastic top, and threw the steaming liquid at him- only lower than the other.  
“Jesus fucking-” Logan’s voice went up a few octaves once the burning sensation reached the skin of his groin. His hands went to his crotch to try to ease the pain. “You fucking bi-”  
Rosa nearly jumped out of her skin when Trevor, out of nowhere, moved her aside and threw a punch into Logan’s face.  
 _“Watch what you fucking say to her!”_ The older man shouted. Logan was floored, cupping his nose which was now gushing blood.  
Rosa gasped, hands over her gaped mouth in shock as she watched Trevor stand over Logan.  
“Now. What was it you suggested a minute ago? That she 'get on her back’ for you?”  
Rosa tried to alleviate the situation, gently setting her hand on Trevor’s arm. “Trevor-”  
“No, hold on a second,” he said. “Was that what you said to her? A respectable young lady like Rosa?”  
Logan couldn’t find his voice- overcome with fear of the unprecedented stranger who stood over him.  
 _“Apologize!”_  
 _“I-I’m s-sorry, R-R-Rosa!”_  Logan bawled.  
“Good,” Trevor said. “You got a car, cowboy?”  
Logan stuttered behind his hands cupped over his broken nose. “I-l-”  
 _“Yes or no, asshole!?”_  Trevor snapped, balling his fist and getting ready to hit him again- oblivious to people around them dialing the LSPD on their phones.  
 _“Yes!”_  Logan cried, flinching away from the older man.  
“Good, what kind is it?”  
“A- A- A mo-motorcycle. B-Bagger. B-Blue.” For a twenty four year old man, he really was a crybaby. Rosa began to believe that Trevor really was right about him.  
“Alright,” Trevor said in a calmer tone, taking his wallet from his pocket and removing a single dollar bill. “You’re selling it. Right now. For a buck.”  
Logan tried to man up. “I’m not selling it to yo-”  
“No, you’re fucking selling it to  _her!_  As compensation for pain and suffering and having to put up with a weak little shithead like you.” Trevor growled, gesturing to Rosa. He threw the dollar at the younger man.  _“Gimme the fucking keys!”_  
Logan, abandoning all dignity out of fear, hurriedly searched his pockets, brandishing a set of keys with a rubber Fly-Lo FM keychain. Trevor snatched them out of his hand and began to walk away, pulling Rosa along by her hand. “Pleasure doing business with you,  _Looooogan from the gooooolf coooouuuurse_.”  
  
“Can you drive a motorcycle?” He asked when they got outside. The sirens of several police cruisers echoed in the distance and were rapidly approaching.  
“Yeah, he let me drive it a few times-” she said.  
Trevor passed her the keys. “Good, we’re going to The Vanilla Unicorn. Follow me and stay close.”  
They went their separate ways to the two vehicles. Trevor took off in his truck, and Rosa followed suit on the motorcycle.  
They drove fast, avoiding any sirens they could hear- and about twenty minutes later when they could no longer hear the police coming, they were pulling into the strip club’s parking lot.  
She stayed on the bike while he got out of his truck, clearly excited. “Two scores in a day! And you have a new 'whip’ to get you around for the low, low price of one a-dollar!”  
She didn’t care about that. All she could think about was how she got played. The moment of finding him and Ellie together kept playing back in her head as she stared at the gas tank of the bike. It wasn’t blue like he said. It was black with a sparkly blue pearlescent layer.  
Trevor noticed the look on her face and was disappointed that she didn’t seem to want to share in the victory. “What’s wrong?”  
“I asked him once why he didn’t want to have a relationship with me and he said he wasn’t trying to rush things. That he wanted to take his time to get to know me because he thought I was something special.”  
“Then I should’ve hit him harder.”  
“I didn’t want you to.”  
“Maybe not,” Trevor said. “But he was just  _asking_  for it.”  
They were silent for a few seconds, and then she sighed and rubbed under her eyes- remembering not to smudge her eyeliner. “Well… it  _was_  nice of you to stand up for me like that. Thank you.”  
Trevor managed a smile. “You’re a part of the team. Besides, I like you. You're a fucking maniac.”  
“Part of the team,” she smirked at his 'maniac' comment. “You were right about him, though… He really is a little bitch-boy. Did you see how he was crying?”


	6. Such a Tease

After sitting around in the club’s office and downing a couple of Pißwassers together, Trevor had gone to Attack-A-Taco to get food. They had lunch together and Trevor explained to her how he and Michael had met and worked together, how the De Santas used to be the Townleys and lived in North Yankton.  
“I knew about that part already.”  
“How?”  
“Tracey shares everything with me. Especially when she’s drunk or stoned. And Amanda and Jimmy don’t exactly keep quiet about it either.”  
“That fucking family, I swear,” he muttered. He figured out that this was the reason why she wasn’t shocked to overhear them plotting the job. “He really did a number on those kids.”  
“Trust me, I know. I only became friends with Tracey because we both drank underage and did blow together a few times,” she took a big gulp of beer. “That and both our dads are terrible fathers. Surprising how well two people can bond over hating their dads.”  
“What’s the story with yours?” He smirked. “I  _loooove_  me a girl with some daddy issues.”  
She flipped him off as she finished off her beer and set the bottle on the floor. She’d had three by then and was considering a fourth. “Never met him. Mom told me he’s a coke dealer.” She usually wouldn’t share that kind of information, but she was buzzed and emotionally drained by then from the scene at the golf club. So fuck it. “My mom used to work for him. That’s how they met. Then they got married, she got knocked up, she ran off to San Andreas… and here we are twenty years later.”  
“Sounds like you came out on top.”  
“Shit, I hope so. I don’t know much about them, but apparently I take after both of them a lot. I’m a fucking thief and I guess I’m not all that bothered by violence. Shit, it felt good watching Logan get his ass kicked.”  
He left his seat at the desk and came to sit beside her on the couch. “Y'know, I didn’t have the time earlier because we had to run from the police, but I just wanted to say- you are _amazing_ ,” he said. “The way you got up in that guy’s fuckin’ face, you were ready to fight him even if I didn’t step in! You're fucking _crazy_. You’re a strong, intelligent lady and I have  _never_ been more turned on by anyone else in my life. Probably.”  
“Shut up, Trevor!” She laughed, somewhere between drunk and genuinely happy in that moment. It wasn’t something a lot of women would be happy to hear, but it was pretty funny considering the kind of day it’d been.  
Her laughter only stopped when Trevor’s calloused hand reached across and buried into her hair. He turned her head to face him, and kissed her.  
It was kinda nice…  
Really nice, actually.  
He was surprisingly gentle at first,  keeping his fingers intertwined with her hair and sliding his other hand around her waist. And then he pulled her in tighter until her boobs were shoved up against him, full on trying to slide his tongue into her mouth. She actually kinda liked it- but maybe it was because she had been upset and drinking to feel better. Fuck it, who cared? Nothing in the world was holding her back right now.  
They carried on, Trevor beginning to lay her back onto the couch–  
And then her phone rang. She recognized the tone as her mom’s.  
“Shit, hang on,” she muttered. Trevor moved away from her (with an obvious boner, she noticed), and she sat up and grabbed her phone out of her pocket. “Hey, Mom,”  
 _“Hey, mija, how’s work going?”_  
“It’s goin’ alright- what’s up?”  
 _“I just wanted to say hi,”_  Lita answered. _“Also, I wanted to ask you what you wanted to do for dinner. I was thinking we’d go out. I don’t feel like cooking.”_  
“Yeah, that sounds good.”  
 _“Great, we’ll play it by ear. I’ll be home in an hour or two. I love you!”  
_ “Love you too.”  
They hung up, and Rosa was sobered by remembering that she also had a regular life. She couldn’t just feel bad for herself and hook up with the first guy who looked at her just because she wasn’t feeling good…  
“I have to go home,” she said quietly.  
“How about just a quickie, then?”  
“No.”  
  
She was outside a little bit later. Not in the right condition to drive, so she called a cab to take her home. Trevor offered to drive, but– he was a little riled up and needed to spend a little bit of time alone to deal with it now that she was leaving.  
She received a text halfway home.  
Trevor. _“i think i luv u”_  
 _“Why? Was imagining me that good?”_  She snickered as she sent the message. Jesus Christ, she was flirting now? That was weird, but felt natural-ish.  
 _“ur such a tease. im gonna make sweet animalistic luv 2 u 1 of these days”  
“Keep dreaming.”  
“we r ment 2 b. i can fell it”_  
When she got to Rockford Hills, she paid the cab driver and headed into her house. The motorcycle would stay at the strip club until she was sure the police weren’t searching her house for it. Also, LS Customs could swap out the plates and insure it to her so that it would be hers. She’d handle that after work tomorrow.  
The realization hit: she owned a motorcycle now. She would have to explain the “purchase” to her mother.  
For now… everything was fine.  
Rosa went to her room as soon as she got inside the house, tossing the motorcycle key onto her desk by her laptop. She remembered the camera, and decided to cover it with tape right then.  
Then she remembered the $10,000 in cash she got for selling her getaway car. She was in a hurry to leave the house before and left it scattered on top of her bed. Hundred dollar bills- all practically lining the gray duvet cover.  
Then she dropped onto her bed, lying on top of the bills. Still unhappy that the four months she put into time with a man blew up in her face, but she got money and took his motorcycle.  
And that was satisfying.  
Besides, his girlfriend dumped him over it. And he had a burnt dick and a broken nose.  
That was also satisfying.  
Trevor…  
He really stepped up. He didn’t even have to. She’d just gotten done arguing with him minutes before and then there he was, punching out the guy who wronged her and forcing him to give up his beloved motorcycle.  
That was kind of awesome.  
And she couldn’t shake the thought of how she would’ve let him do whatever because of it.  
 _Trevor Philips.  
Yikes.._  
She closed her eyes, thinking of how strange the entire day was. Thinking of how she was lying on top of the most cash she’d ever seen in her life and how there was more to come.  
And she fell asleep.  
  
Two days later, she brought home the motorcycle.  
  
Two weeks after that, the $400K was put into her bank account- a transfer from Lester.  
  
That same night, she got a text from Franklin.  
 _“We’re celebr8ing.”_  Followed by an emoji of a beer. _“U in?”_  
 _“Fuck yeah! Where are we meeting up??? Vanilla Unicorn?”_ She glanced up from where she sat on the couch at her Mom. Lita was on her phone as well, most likely reading a book. Franklin replied maybe a minute or two later.  _“My place. Trevor n Michael r already here. Ill send u the address.”_  
“Hey, I think I’m gonna go hang out with Tracey for a little while,” Rosa said, glancing up from her phone again.  
“Are you going out?” Lita asked.  
“Maybe- I don’t think she’s got a specific plan, she just asked if I wanted to come over.”  
“Don’t you have work tomorrow?”  
 _Yeah, but so what? Cheryl even came in hung over a few times._ “Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll be drinking very much.” An outright lie.  
“Alright, just be safe. Don’t do anything crazy and call me if you need a ride home from– wherever you go.”  
Rosa’s phone chimed- Franklin.  
“I will,” She left the couch and headed outside, grabbing her wallet and new helmet on the way. Her beloved motorcycle was waiting in the driveway. She hadn’t seen the police come looking nor heard from Logan since Trevor took the keys, and LS Customs gave her new plates and papers to officially make it her property. Saddlebags removed, exhaust pipes changed, scratches and dings repaired- it was a beautiful bike.

The ride to Franklin’s place in Vinewood Hills was nice and short. Los Santos weather was great even at night- and the lack of traffic meant she could speed. She arrived quickly and parked between Michael’s Ubermacht Oracle and another Bagger- green.  
Franklin’s?  
She took her helmet off and left it with the bike, heading up to the front door and knocking.  
A little bit later, a stranger answered the door. He was a tall, young black man dressed in black and green. Gold and silver chains around his neck and a green flatbill.  
“Sheeeiiit, wassup, baby?” He asked casually, trying to be subtle about checking her out.  
She frowned. “Is Franklin here…?”  
He nodded. “Yeah, hold up, hold up-” he turned to the side. “‘Ay, Franklin! Is yo bitch ass here!?”  
Franklin’s muffled voice shouted back in the distance. _“Man, fuck you!”_  
He looked back to Rosa, who couldn’t help but get a laugh out of that. “Yeah, he’s here. C'mon,” he moved aside and let her in, taking the opportunity to get a good look at her ass. He walked with her toward the living room. “Didn’t catch yo name, baby. I’m Lamar, but you could call me L.D. or, uh,  _Papi_. Y'all Mexican chicks call yo boyfriends that, right?”  
“ _Fuuuuuuuck no._  And I’m not Mexican.”  
“Puerto Rican, then?”  
 _“Cuban.”_  They entered the living room to find the rest of the crew and she sat down between Franklin and Michael. “And don’t expect any of that  _'¡Ay, que rico!_ ’ Latina fetishy shit because I haven’t heard anyone ever say that out loud outside of porn.”  
“Betcha I could get you to say it,” Trevor said.  
“Shut up, Trevor,” both Rosa and Michael replied.  
“Betcha I can.” Trevor muttered under his breath.  
“Is Lester coming?” She asked, taking a beer from Franklin when he offered.  
“He said he had a date. Which usually involves some poor, unsuspecting girl on the other side of a webcam or telescope.” Michael said.  
“That’s fucked up. But it sounds about right,” she said, popping open her bottle. “Either way, I’m ready to get trashed.”  
“You came to the right place, girl,” Lamar laughed, settling down into his seat on Franklin’s other side.  
  
She took care to drink slowly to stay on the same level of intoxicated as the men. It was a good time, actually. Lamar almost constantly grilled Franklin; Trevor would join in by doing the same to Michael, then he and Michael would go off on a tangent.  
Michael stopped drinking early- he planned to head home early. “I promised Amanda I’d take her out- I just didn’t say when,” he explained when he got up from the couch and adjusted the collar of his slate colored suit. Meanwhile, Lamar got up to go to the kitchen and move on to hard liquor now that they were out of beer. “It’s been a couple weeks since we last had a date. So I’m surprising her tonight. Taking her out to dinner and then we’re gonna stargaze at the observatory. Classic and underrated.”  
“Aw, that’s so nice!” Rosa smiled.  
Trevor made a fist and sharply flicked his wrist with the imitation of a whipping sound. “She’s got you on a leash.”  
Rosa reached over and  playfully smacked the older man on the arm. “He’s trying to be a good husband!”  
Michael pointed to Rosa. “You know it, kid. Take it easy, Franklin. Rosa, good hanging out with you. Tell your mom I said hi.”  
“The party’s just about to get good, Mikey!” Trevor sang. “Are you really gonna let Amanda keep you from your friends?”  
“Hey, I asked _her_  to go out.” Michael shrugged and headed for the door. “Say what you want, T; but I at least know  _I’m_  getting lucky tonight.”  
“I can get lucky tonight too!” Trevor called after him as he turned away to leave. He looked at Rosa and winked.  
 _“The fuck you can!”_  Rosa cocked an eyebrow.  
But he was determined. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.  
“We’ll see how you feel after some shots,” he smirked, standing up from the couch and chugging the remaining half of his beer before heading toward the kitchen. “Lamar! What’s taking so long with the booze?”  
Lamar’s muffled voice shouted back from the kitchen. “Franklin’s punk ass ain’t got nothin’ but rum! I want some of that good mothafuckin’ whiskey Michael talked about!”  
Now only Rosa and Franklin remained in the living room. While she was finishing off her beer, she saw him pick up his phone and start texting. He’d done that several times throughout the night.  
“Who you been talkin’ to?” She asked.  
“Nobody.”  
“That’s like the fiftieth time you’ve picked up your phone since I got here.”  
“Uh…” He said awkwardly. “This girl I been kinda talkin’ to lately.”  
 _“Awwww,”_  she teased with a big grin. “That’s cute! What’s her name?”  
He seemed to hesitate sharing the name. “… Tracey.”  
“Tracey  _De Santa_ …?”  
“… Keep that to yoself.”  
“Wait, really?” She scooted closer to him and peeked at his phone.  
 _“Partys ok. What r u doing tonite?”_ Addressed to Tracey De Santa.  
Rosa smiled widely. “Have you guys gone out yet?”  
“I ain’t asked yet.”  
“Why not? She likes you.”  
His face seemed to light up. “Seriously?”  
“Yeah! I’ve heard her talk about 'that guy who shows up to talk to my dad sometimes. I think his name is Franklin. He’s really nice.’”  
He looked down at his phone, trying to hide that he was very flattered.  
“Ask her out. She’d say yes.”  
His phone beeped, and he read Tracey’s message.  _“im staying in tonite im thinkng of reading abt what it takes 2 go 2 collage.”_  
Wow, so she was actually serious about getting a degree.  
“Michael wouldn’t like it if I did,” he said.  
“Michael ignores half of the shit his kids do.”  
“A'ight, true.”  
She bounced excitedly on the sofa, hand on his arm. “Ask her out, ask her out-”  
“Fine, here goes…” he typed out his proposal to her.  _“I have ben thinking of askin… Would u want 2 go out with me sometime?? We could talk about colleges some more.”_  
Her response came less than thirty seconds later.  _“omg yes! lets go 2moro!”_  
Franklin looked over at Rosa and saw her smug grin. “Okay, Imma give you credit fo’ that.”  
“Anything for a friend,” she patted him on the knee. “You two work out the details, I’m waiting on shots!”


	7. Why Him?

At about 2 AM, all four of them were wasted. Lamar fell asleep on the couch, and Franklin went to bed around the same time- around 1.  
Trevor and Rosa remained; no longer drinking but debating on what to do next. She was intoxicated, practically falling asleep where she was with an empty red cup in hand. She’d been mixing the rum with eCola- the whiskey idea went out the window.  
“Wanna go to a bar?” Trevor asked. He was ready to keep partying, of course. Nobody had a liver as powerful as his- he drank  _gasoline_ , for fuck’s sake.  
“I’m…” She slurred. “Have work tomorrow. And I’m not 21.”  
His brows furrowed and his lips curled into a bemused smile. “It  _is_ tomorrow.”  
“No, it’s today still-” she took her phone out of her bra and checked the time. “Shiiiiiiiit… It’s tomorrow.”  
He chuckled. “That’ll be a fun day of work.”  
She smiled and shrugged. “I’ll just go in hung over. I don’t care!” The plastic cup slipped out of her hand and softly clattered onto the floor. “I wanna sleep, though. Lamore is snoring too loud.”  
“ _Lamar_.” He corrected.  
“I said Lamar.” She frowned.  
“Sure you did,” he nodded. “Wanna get out of here?”  
“To sleep?”  
“Sure, we’ll check into a motel.” Sex being his goal, of course. It’d been two weeks since they made out a little and he just wanted to keep that going.  
“‘Kay,”  
 _Wow, she was down for it?_  
They were in his truck minutes later, and they didn’t end up spotting any police on the way down toward Vinewood Blvd. which was good- a breathalyzer would’ve definitely created an issue.  
They checked into the first place they could find- a hotel. The room was a little pricy, but who cared? He was determined to get her in bed.  
He kissed her in the elevator, hands traveling all over when she wrapped her arms around him and reciprocated. She was wasted- but not enough to be sick. Just enough to be uninhibited. He considered that the right amount.  
“I’m gonna make you see stars,” he purred, hand sliding up under her shirt.  
She shuddered when he groped her through her bra, and giggled drunkenly. “You better!”  
They moved down the hallway when the elevator doors opened, and stood outside the door of their assigned room. He pushed her against the door and kissed her roughly, more aggressively than before. She could feel him against her hip through his pants.  
“I like you,” she slurred between kisses. “Didja know that?”  
“Mhm,” he hummed. He trailed down to her neck, nipped at the sensitive skin, and felt a chill when she let out a small, breathy moan.  
“I like… how… you’re fun.” She continued. She slid her hand down toward his crotch and rubbed him through his pants. “I thought it was, like… really cool when you beat that guy up.”  
He chuckled against her skin and pressed himself against her. He debated what he wanted to do with her first. “I’m gonna show you fun. C'mon.”  
He finally opened the door and walked her into the room before he promptly fell into bed with her. He hurriedly began to undress her, sliding her shorts off, and moving his hand up her inner thigh. Her hand traveled down his front once more and promptly fell away before it passed his belt. He pulled back from her neck to see that her eyes were closed.  
 _She fell asleep.  
 **Goddamn it.**_  
“ _You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me_.” He muttered. “Rosa,” he shook her. “Jesus fucking–  _Rosa_.” She roused slightly, eyes not opening, but looking annoyed when she turned onto her other side to get comfortable.  
Well… there goes that.  
Grumbling irritably, he left the bed to go “handle” himself in the bathroom. He came back later, turned off the lights, and fell asleep next to her. Irritable and frustrated as all hell.  
  
She woke up the next morning to her phone vibrating aggressively under her stomach. Her head was pounding with a hangover.  
The sheets on the bed were white.  
But why? Her bed sheets were usually green.  
She looked up to find that she wasn’t in her house. She only vaguely remembered petting a dog at Franklin’s place. A big Rottweiler with a green collar.  
Was she still there? What was buzzing under her-  _ **WHY THE FUCK WAS SHE SHARING A BED WITH TREVOR PHILIPS?**_  
“Oh god,” she moaned in dread. “What did I do?”  
Her voice woke him and he groggily gave her a nasty look. “Oh,  _now_ you’re awake.” He muttered.  
“Did we hook up?” She asked, mortified.  
“Pfft, no. You fell asleep before we could get very far.”  
“Oh my fucking god, I’m never drinking again,” the buzzing under her stomach stopped and she realized it’d been her phone the whole time. It fell out of her bra while she slept.  
She checked the missed calls. Four from Cheryl.  
She started to dial Cheryl’s number, then received a text.  
 _“Don’t bother showing up. I gave your shifts to Dennis. I don’t know what the problem has been lately, but you can apply here again once you’ve figured it out.”_  
“Oh my god,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes and smudging the remains of her eyeliner. On the verge of tears.  
“What?”  
“I just got fired.  _Fuck,_  I knew I shouldn’t have taken so many days off this month…”  _Suck it up, Rosa. Just suck it up. It was just a job at Binco. You can find another! Sub Urban is hiring, Bean Machine is hiring, Ponsonby’s is hiri-_  
“So what? You have money in the bank,” Trevor said. They both climbed out of bed. Trevor had taken off his shirt at some point, and she tried to hide that she was staring when he talked. “You have steady income while you work with us. So what are you worried about?”  
She saw that he had more tattoos than she initially noticed. A cross on his left arm from when he thought Michael was dead, a sparrow on his neck, “FUCK YOU” across his knuckles, and “FUCK COPS” across his upper stomach. He was slimmer than Michael. And in generally better shape for being their age. Like… muscle definition.  
 _… Damn… He’s actually kinda…  
_ Her mind flashed back to Lita saying that she thought Tommy was hot when she first saw him.  
 _NO. NO. NO. SHUTTHEFUCKUP._  
“Because the last time I didn’t have a job, I made some stupid decisions in my free time.” Cocaine and binge drinking, for example.  
“Compared to aiding in robbery?”  
Okay, true. But still.  
She finally noticed the chill of the air conditioning on her bare thighs. “Where are my pants?”  
“Don’t know,” he shrugged. “And don’t care. I think you should leave 'em off. Nice panties, by the way. Never pictured you wearing pink.”  
Her cheeks turned red and she pulled down her T-shirt to cover up her pink polka- dotted underwear. “Man, shut up.”  
She found her shorts on the floor and pulled them on, trying to ignore the burning of Trevor’s gaze on her back. Specifically her waaaaaaaaay lower back.  
He noticed that she had a tattoo too. What appeared to be the tip of a triangle at the center of the top of her back, just barely visible over the neck of her shirt.  
“Can I see your tattoo?” He asked.  
“I’m not gonna take my shirt off.”  
“Okay, so some other time when I can bend you over something.”  
“Don’t be gross, Trevor.”  
  
“I need to get my motorcycle.” She realized. It dawned on her that they were at a hotel when they walked into the hallway. Up until then she thought they were somewhere in Franklin’s house. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do with the rest of the day.” Probably sleep off the hangover. The bright sun hit her eyes when they went outside and her headache spread like a wildfire.  
Ugh. She forgot her sunglasses at home.  
“I can come up with some ideas,” the older man said.  
“We’re not having sex.”  
“Not what I was going to suggest, but I like that you’re thinking about it,” he winked. “We have options.”  
They climbed into his truck and headed back toward Franklin’s house. He offered her a pair of sunglasses. Mirrored aviators like her own. “I was thinking more along the lines of preparing you for another job.”  
That piqued her interest. She put on the sunglasses and instantly felt some relief. “What did you have in mind?”  
“I’ll explain a little more later, but it’s gonna be fun.”  
They spent the rest of the ride quiet, no radio. Just the sounds of Los Santos passing by. She kept her keys with her, so they left Franklin’s as quickly as they came. She wanted to drop off the motorcycle at home, so they quickly stopped in Rockford Hills to leave it in her driveway. She joined Trevor in his truck again and they set out to wherever he planned on taking her. The AmmuNation with the shooting range ended up being their destination.  
She followed him inside. “We’re buying guns?”  
“Ever shoot one before?” He asked. He held open the door for her when they went inside.  
“Once,” she said. “Not at a moving target. I’m not a good shot.”  
“That’s why we’re here,” he led her up to the counter and gave the tattooed clerk some money. “We’re using the range. All different types of guns.”  
  
Hearing and eye protection were not provided. “I don’t have any-”  
“It’s fine,” Trevor said. “Bring some next time, you won’t go deaf from shooting a few times without earmuffs.” He passed her a 9mm combat pistol and a full magazine of 15 rounds.  
“Show me how you load it,” he said.  
She slid the magazine into the handle until it clicked into place.  
“Safety’s still on?” He asked.  
“Yeah.”  
“Okay, now chamber the first round.”  
She looked at him, clearly confused.  
“That’s what happens when you pull back the slide.”  
“Oh!” She did as he instructed.  
“But you have to keep your finger off the trigger.”  
She realized that she had her finger through the little loop part. “Oh wait, shit-”  
Trevor frowned. “Have you ever been weapons trained?”  
“Not formally, but I’ve seen videos on the internet.”  
“Not gonna cut it,” he said. “I can do you one better. I was in the Air Force for a while- got through all the training. I’ll show you the right way. Gimme.”  
She passed him the pistol, and he removed the magazine, pulled back the slide until it locked into place, and removed the fifteenth round in the chamber before popping it back into the magazine.  
“Remember this like a checklist,” he pointed at the corresponding parts of the gun. “Safety on, round in the chamber, magazine secure, safety still on.” He demonstrated the proper way to load, then passed the gun and had her mimic him, making a point to keep her finger off the trigger. “Good,” he said. “Show me how you aim.”  
She pointed down the range. “Is this right?”  
“Almost,” he came up behind her and moved her into a better posture, not as stiff and still, but easier to hold.  
He was up against her back, arms around her and holding her arms in position.  
This was…  _Interesting…_  
What surprised her was the thump in her chest when the warmth of his body finally reached hers through their combined layers of clothing. She actually prayed that he couldn’t hear or feel her heart pounding.  
“Now breathe slowly,” he said, just barely above a murmur near her ear. “Take off the safety.” She did so. “Don’t jerk the trigger, pull slowly. And only put your finger on it when you’re ready to shoot.”  
She did as he instructed, and was surprised to see that she hit the target dead center. He was right- gently pulling the trigger helped her aim.  
“Good,” he said. “Do it four more times.” He wasn’t being creepy or hinting at anything sexual, just teaching her to shoot-  
But the moment felt unconventionally intimate. Like…  
 _Wait-_  
 _Dude_ … Did she actually  _like_ him? Not just when alcohol rid her of her inhibitions???  
Well… That was kind of alarming.  
She followed his instructions and shot four more times. Good shots, but off-center. She was distracted by a rush of his hot breath near her neck. An image of him kissing her neck flashed through her mind’s eye and she fought to ignore the warm rush of blood to her cheeks. This was kind of a turn on.  
The idea struck that she wanted to fuck him. Oh-- _OH. OH, NO. NO._ (She did)  
“I’m not that good of a shot,” she joked, sounding uneasy. Fucking bullshit- Like, how was she supposed to deal with feeling like this? It’s  _HIM_  of all the people in San Andreas. An old, balding, crudely tattooed, mentally unstable, meth dealing, bank robbing, stranger punching, car thieving-   
“Better than the dumb asses I hang around in Sandy Shores.” He said bluntly, stepping back from her. “You’re stiff. You need to work on that.”  
“Yup,” she said idly.  
“And then you can help me deal with how stiff I am right now.” He reverted to his usual sexual overtone, casually adjusting himself.  
 _ **Why him?**_  
“ _Oh my god, no._ ”


	8. Three Days

With no job to go to, the days began to blend into each other.  
Lita would leave.  
Tracey would text Rosa about her progress with Franklin and invite her over.  
They’d hang out some days. Not as often as they used to.  
Tracey was looking for a job. She and Franklin had gone out a couple of days in a row and were working on her narrowing down what she would like a degree in.  
Her time was focused on Franklin now.  
It didn’t bother Rosa- she spent most of her time with Trevor lately too.  
He convinced her to take some time to have fun before finding another job. So he would come pick her up almost every day.  
They would go to the shooting range for her to practice, eat, drink, and then she would go home- drunk and ready to repeat it all the next day.  
  
“I feel like doing something else today,” she said, allowing her arm to hang out of the side of the truck. She moved her hand in a wave against the rushing wind.  
“Okay, how about you do me?” He asked cheekily. The possibility of sex was an inside joke at that point. After all, they’d come close to doing it twice.  
“I was thinking more along the lines of going to Vinewood Blvd. There’s a tattoo shop out there I like.”  
“You wanna get more ink?”  
“Fuck yeah, I do!” She pulled her arm back into the truck and stretched it toward the dashboard. “I have a few ideas already- just didn’t have the money before.”  
Trevor smirked- girls who didn’t mind a little pain were usually the ones into the rough stuff anyway.  _Niiiiiiiice._  
“Okay, tattoo parlor it is.”  
Rosa smiled, stealing a glance at him when he peered left to turn after leaving a stop sign.  
Maybe it was because she was getting to know him, but he seemed easier on the eyes since they’d met that day at Michael’s. He was fun. And actually kind of nice to her if she ignored all of the sexual innuendos.  
  
They pulled into a parking spot on the street out in front of the building.  
Blazing Tattoo.  
“So what was your idea?” Trevor asked, following behind her. She could feel his eyes at her back- as usual.  
“You’ll see! One of my friends works here. He drew it up for me months ago.”  
The bell on the door rang when they entered, just barely audible above Channel X playing over the speakers.  
“Rosa fuckin’ Salamanca!” A deep voice greeted from the farthest seat in the shop.  
A short, stocky, Hispanic man with dozens of tattoos and large gauges in his ears left his chair to greet her.  
“Hector fucking Garcia!” She laughed, moving to greet him with a hug.  
Trevor noted that he had neon green hair like a goddamn hipster.  
He also noted that Hector lingered on that hug for a little too long.  
“What can I do you for, babe?” Hector grinned.  
“I’m finally getting that design done,” she beamed. “Oh right-” she came back over to Trevor, her smaller hand settling on his forearm. All traces of jealousy were gone in an instant. “This is my friend Trevor. This is Hector. We went to high school together.” And used to date… Kinda.  
Hector seemed critical of the strange, dirty looking man his friend brought into his shop. But he guessed if Rosa liked him, he had to be alright… “Nice to meet you, man.” He held out his hand to the strange older man, and stared at the tattoos on his knuckles when he shook. “FUCK YOU” was scrawled across his knuckles. He had a small sparrow on the left hand side of his neck, and a dotted line with “CUT HERE” around his neck. A scorpion, a pentagram, a skull- those faded tattoos also adorned his hands, many of them marred by scabs, scars, and open sores.  
This guy seemed like bad news. Why didn’t Rosa notice?  
She always did like people who seemed to be bad for her.  _What was up with that?_  
“Alright, let’s get you set up-” Hector said to Rosa, prepping his chair for her. “Roll up your sleeve for me.”  
“I’ll be back,” Trevor said, checking his phone. “I gotta make a call.”  
“Everything alright?” Rosa asked.  
“Yeah,” he said flatly, heading for the door. “It’s business. Don’t go anywhere!” He gave her the finger guns, and she replied with a smile and a thumbs up.  
Hector let out a sharp sigh once Trevor exited the door. “Robbing the grave now, I see.” His snide remark earned a nasty look from her.  
“It’s not like that,” she said. “I work with him.”  
“I hope you make good money for putting up with that. He looks like a meth head. Sleeve up.”  
She pulled up the sleeve of her T-shirt and settled into the pleather chair while Hector prepared the line art. She could see Trevor pacing outside, phone to his ear. He made aggressive gestures while speaking to whoever was on the other side. “About that,” she said flatly.  
“Jesus Christ, Rosa,” Hector shook his head. He shaved the fine hairs of her upper arm, cleaned the skin, and laid the stenciled design onto her skin and peeled it off a few seconds later. “You’re really stepping it up, aren’t you? Coke isn’t enough anymore? You’re doing  _meth_  now?”  
“Fuck no! I’d never touch meth. I quit coke weeks ago,” she shrugged. “I’m clean now.”  
“Oh, so the rehab worked? Mirror. Is the placement okay?”  
“Yeah, the rehab fucking worked.” She glared, she peeked over to the mirror. “Placement’s good.”  
“Cool,” he said. Then he got to work. “If it worked so well then why’d you get back on it? Did your mom know?”  
“No, she still thinks I quit for good after rehab.” That was a year ago. It was a darker time for her. She took the semester off of school, sold her car, got fired from her old job at Croq-A-Hoop, did nothing but blow. Well- and hook up with nobody who mattered. There were many questionable decisions. And when Lita, Ken, and CJ got wind of it, they sent her to rehab for several months.  
She had to work ten times harder to get her degree after that. Eventually the stress caught up to her and she started again. Only more carefully.  
Trevor came back inside once his phone call was over. He looked inconvenienced, but ultimately didn’t give any other indications of a problem.  
It’d been a call from Ron about the meth operation. Chef had a run-in with whatever remained of the Aztecas.  
Trevor was certain that he’d killed them all, but apparently not.  
He looked at Rosa in the chair. She didn’t even so much as flinch whenever the needle touched her skin. In fact, she looked like she liked it.  
The way she bit her lip and gave him a quick smile when she looked away from her newly marked up skin. She was getting the Statue of Liberty- only as a skeleton. It’s cover most of her arm.  
“What’s up?” She asked, tearing him from his thoughts.  
“Nothing,” Trevor said plainly. “Just had to calm down an idiot. How much longer do you think you have?”  
“Maybe an hour or two,” Hector answered blankly, entirely focused on Rosa’s arm. “Longer if she wants color.”  
“Just black is fine,” Rosa replied. She looked back to Trevor. “Do you need to go somewhere?”  
The way she looked at him was cute. Goddamn it. It drove him insane to know that she liked him but they still hadn’t fucked.  
“Yeah,” he checked his watch then back to her. “I need to go,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”  
And then he did something that neither of them expected- he leaned over and kissed the side of her head.  
He wasn’t sure what gave him the idea to do it- it just kind of happened.  
“Oh– okay,” she stared at him, astonished, as he left without a second glance. If she didn’t have a needle against her arm, she would’ve gotten up to follow him.  
Hector actually paused for a second, seeing how his friend looked after the strange older man as he left. They’d (kinda) dated for a year in high school and he was certain at she never looked at him that way.  
“So you just _work_  together?” He chuckled. “Looks like good, old fashioned bonin’ to me.” He clicked his tongue and continued tattooing her.  
“We’re not,” she said sternly. “Just let it go.”  
She told herself the same thing.  
Her cheeks felt warm, and she had to push the thought of that tiny little kiss aside to focus on the needle scraping at her arm.  
_Just let it go._  
  
“-Oh. My. God. And then he kissed me! Like  _kiiiiiiiissed_  me!” Tracey swooned, stretching out on her bed and staring dreamily at the ceiling. “I think I love him.  It’s been like two weeks but I think I love him. He’s so-” she rolled onto her stomach and buried her face into her blanket, kicking her legs like a child and let out a muffled squeal into her duvet.  
“Yeah,” Rosa said quietly. “Franklin’s pretty cool.” Shed actually called Franklin the day before. Michael too. Neither had heard from Trevor in three days.  
The sunburn-like ache of her tattoo was like a reminder that it was only just a few days. It’d be alarming if it was over a week- but they’d spent so many days together that it felt weird to not have him around.  
He said he’d call the next day…  
_Goddamn it, where is he…?_  
“Have you met him?”  
“Yeah, just in passing,” Rosa lied. “He seemed pretty nice… Uh- tell me more about college. Are you going to ULSA?”  
“Oh!” She grinned. “So I was thinking I’d go to VCU. I wanna major in-”  
Rosa couldn’t even pay attention to her. She kept glancing at her phone, waiting for at least a text with some kind of filthy joke or a request for a picture of her breasts.  
She’d sent a couple of texts to try to initiate contact. But he never answered.  
_Fuck, man, where is he!?_  
  
Rosa went home later, typing out another text as she crossed the street on the way home. This was the fourth since he left.  
_“Look, I need to know if you’re okay. It’s been three days and you said you’d call. Just call me.”_  
She sighed after the message was sent.  
If he didn’t answer after that… she’d just have to assume the worst.  
She’d passed her mother on her way upstairs.  
“Everything okay, baby?” Lita stopped on the steps after seeing her daughter’s downtrodden appearance.  
“Yeah, I’m good,” Rosa answered, feeling her phone vibrate inside of her bra. Not once, but a few times- a call! “Hang on, I have to do something!”  
She rushed to her room and closed the door, hurriedly taking her phone out and checking caller ID.  
_It was him!_  
“Trevor!” She answered the phone, relieved that he finally could reach her.  
_“The one and only,”_  he replied. He sounded… off. Not like his usual self, but like that time she left for a few minutes after the heist. Quiet.  
“Where the fuck have you been?” She asked. She stopped herself before she could admit that she was worried.  
On the other side of the phone, Trevor Philips felt something other than emotional agony for the first time in three days. He’d originally gone to check up on Chef. Once that was dealt with, he found his mother in his trailer demanding a van full of Deludamol. As soon as he acquired it, she was already gone.  
That was day one.  
The remaining two days were a blur- an emotional bender of meth and liquor. He might’ve killed a tourist who was on the way to Los Santos- he couldn’t be sure. He just vaguely remembered being coated in someone else’s blood at one point.  
_“Trevor?”_  Rosa’s voice broke his train of thought. Sweet, beautiful Rosa. She cared about him. She loved him. He knew it. She had to. The very thought of it was what made him finally feel better after days of isolation.  
“I’m still here,” he said. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, careful not to get the caked blood under his fingernails into his eyes. “I’m out in Sandy Shores.”  
_“Are you coming back to LS?”_  
“I’ll be out there later tonight.” He said. “I’ll meet you at Del Perro pier.”  
She felt a weird sensation in her rib cage. It felt kind of like when something works out in your favor. A sensation of excitement and relief blooming in your chest. Like confessing something to someone and hearing them react the way you’d hoped for.  
“When?” She asked.  
But he never specified. He hung up before the word even left her throat.  
_Well…_  
Shit.  
  
From Sandy Shores to Del Perro Beach was a three hour drive, so she waited until a little later in the afternoon to get ready to go.  
She would never admit to anyone (ever) that she felt compelled to look nice when she saw him. She took her time putting on makeup after her shower. She didn’t dress any nicer- it’s not like they were going out on a date. She settled for comfort- a T-shirt, jeans, and canvas shoes. She tied her hair back into a ponytail and that was that.  
She felt anxious the whole drive there. The sound of her bike’s engine was the only thing that provided some relief from the feeling- and once she parked on the pier and cut the engine, she waited.  
And waited.  
And waited.  
… What the fuck?  
Wasn’t he coming straight there?  
She sent him a text.  _“How far away are you?”_  
And she waited.  
And waited  
_And fucking waited._  
The dark clouds that were previously over the horizon were closer- probably a few hundred feet from the very end of the pier.  
“Goddamn it,” she muttered.  
The rain came before he did.  
In fact, he never answered the text.  
Rosa abandoned her motorcycle in its parking spot for the time being and ran through the rain to take shelter under the awning of the arcade.  
She checked her phone constantly. The sun was setting behind the clouds. Still no Trevor.  
She sent another message. _“I’m by the arcade. It’s getting cold so I might go home soon.”_  
The old Degenatron next to her played the same 8-bit song on repeat just above the pouring rain.  
More time passed. She watched other people with umbrellas or jackets over their heads trotting along the pier to get to their cars. The roller coaster and Ferris wheel were out of service now. Everyone was leaving.  
She checked her phone again.  
She’d arrived an hour and a half ago.  
_He’s not coming_. She began to write out another message stating that he could find her at home instead, and-  
“Rosa!”  
Hearing her name made her raise her eyes to see Trevor, soaking wet from the downpour, walking up to her.  
She felt the urge to hug him when he was in arms reach. And he even held out his arms to try to initiate it.  
Instead she smacked his wet arm. He was cold to the touch. “You said you’d call me, asshole!” She scolded.  
“Jesus Christ, I was busy!” He retorted- actually offended that she didn’t seem happy to see him. “What are you, my  _wife?_ ”  
“Shut up! I was worried!”  
That caught him off guard. His expression dropped and his shoulders slumped a little bit. He felt like a child. Looked like one too.  
“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I just- I didn’t want you to…”  _I didn’t want you to think less of me because I spent three days having a meltdown._  
“I was  _worried_ ,” she repeated, softer this time. She didn’t look angry anymore. She just looked… sad. Goddamn it, why? He was fine. "I thought you and me were friends, asshole. Why didn't you say anything for three days?"  
“I’m sorry.” He said again. Sincerely. Which was probably a first.  
They stared each other down for a long, quiet moment. He only slightly moved his arms again- the smallest invitation for her to come closer. He didn’t even think she noticed, but she hugged him. Tightly.  
He hadn’t realized that he was cold until he felt how warm the smaller body against him was.  
“God _damn_ , you’re cold,” she muttered.  
He looked down at the top of her head, which was leaned against his chest.  
“Maybe,” he smirked. “But I still got you  _weeeet_.”  
“ _Oh my god,_ ” she grinned. “You’re the worst.” Filthy jokes aside, it was good to see him. His usual humor assured her that he was okay after all.


	9. Mother

They drove out to Rockford Hills- she wanted to shove a pair of dry clothes into a backpack before they went anywhere else.  
But Lita wasn’t home.  
Rosa remembered her mentioning earlier that Paul and his band were back from a tour. They were to meet with CJ and Ken in Vinewood Hills to organize their next move.  
She said she’d probably be gone all night.  
After putting her motorcycle into the garage, she ran back out to Trevor’s truck on the road between her place and Michael’s. “Let’s just hang out here. We can throw our shit into the dryer and I’ll make something to eat.”  
“Your mom probably won’t be happy to see somebody her age walk in with her daughter.”  
“She’s gone for the night. We got time.”  
  
“Uh- wait,” she said as soon as they stepped inside. Water pooled under the both of them as they dripped onto the floor. The area by the door was stone tile. The rest of the floor was hardwood. Lita would lose her mind if it were to swell from the moisture.  
“What-” he froze as he watched her begin to strip down right then and there and drop her clothes onto the floor. “Goddamn, you’re eager to be alone, aren’t you?” He deadpanned. He didn’t know where to state first- but he was disappointed to see that she stopped at her bra and panties.  
“Don’t get excited, I’m just trying to keep the rest of the floor dry. Wait here.”  
She wrung out her ponytail onto her discarded clothes and strode up the stairs out of view.  
He felt awkward waiting there for her.  
The inside of the house looked similar to Michael’s- only with darker colors. Like it was fucking haunted. But classy- probably because Rosa’s mom didn’t choose phony, craft store decorating ideas like Amanda.  
She came back a few minutes later with some dry clothes in hand. “These should fit you.”  
He took the clothes and examined them. A neon orange pair of basketball shorts and a gray V-neck. “Why do you have men’s clothes?”  
“They were Bitch-Boy’s. I borrowed them and never gave them back.”  
“Convenient,” he noted. She took his motorcycle _and_ his clothes. Nice.  
He started disrobing on the tile, dropping his Love Fist shirt, kicking off his boots, and starting on his jeans.  
Rosa turned away, biting her lips together and heading back upstairs to get her own clothes.  
When she came back downstairs, she saw him dressed and gathering up their wet clothes.  
“It’s weird seeing you in clothes that aren’t caked in dirt and other people’s blood,” she chuckled.  
“Yeah, like I have to break them in.” He tugged at the slim-fitting shirt. He was used to looser ones. Logan must have been one of those guys who wore tight clothes to accentuate their rare trips to the gym.  
“I mean, I don’t care what you do with those after I wash your stuff, but-”  
“You said you were just throwing them in the dryer.”  
“I’m washing them. Your shit smells like ammonia.”  
“About that-”  
“I don’t wanna know.”  
  
While she took their clothes to the laundry room and started the wash cycle, Trevor explored the downstairs- the kitchen, the living room. Nice place. Must’ve cost a fortune.  
“What does your dear mother do if she can afford a mortgage like this?” He wondered aloud as she found him in the kitchen.  
“She hasn’t had an actual job in, like– ever.  She knows a guy.” CJ had bought that house for them. And Lita's car. He got Kendl and Cesar’s too.  
“So your mom does some illegal shit too.”  
“Well… She used to. Not anymore.”  
“How can you be sure? What did she do, turn tricks?”  
“Sell coke and kill people. Nowadays, I don't know.”  
“Classy.”  
“We’re Salamancas. We’re the epitome of class.”  
He looked at the mail on the kitchen’s island. A white envelope stuck out like a sore thumb on dark granite. “Three of these envelopes say ‘Vercetti’ and one says 'Rosenberg’. I don’t see 'Salamanca’ anywhere.”  
“It’s complicated.”  
He was intrigued. So many names for just two people. “Which one’s the real one?”  
Shit… Should she just tell him? Fuck it. “Vercetti. It’s Salamanca, as far as I’m concerned, but that’s what’s legally my name.”  
“Vercetti sounds kinda familiar…”  
She changed the subject as quickly as she could. “I’m thinking about ordering food,” she said. “I don’t feel like filling the sink with dishes.”  
  
Food came an hour later- Cluckin’ Bell was the only place left that would deliver in that heavy of a storm.  
Trevor ate like he hadn’t touched food since she last saw him, and Rosa ended up surrendering some of hers to make sure he was got what he needed.  
“The clothes should be dry in another hour,” she sighed when she joined him in the living room again. She’d just thrown their clean clothes into the dryer, at last.  
Trevor was leaned back onto the tan leather couch, head almost hanging over the back so he could look at her when she came in. She’d put on a cropped shirt and a pair of short cotton shorts. The weird mood to just touch the the bare skin of her stomach and legs for no reason just popped into his head multiple times. Maybe because he hadn’t really gotten to do that yet.  
 _Ugh_ , he just wanted to put his hands on her so badly.  
“So what should we do with our time?” He stared at her as she sat beside him again. The cushion below her sank and pretty much forced her to be closer to him. He began to count the beauty marks on her thighs. Five.  
“TV?” She asked. She knew what he was hinting. He laid an arm behind her- that typical move.  
Just-  
“I can think of something better,” he said, moving in and pressing his lips to her neck.  
She inhaled sharply, absently leaning her head away from him to better expose her skin. “I think…” She said breathlessly. “This isn’t the best time…”  
“Why not?” He sounded annoyed. Like this was the third time he’d tried to start something and was tired of being put off. “Nobody’s here, it’s storming, and I’ve been thinking of doing this for a month.”  
“Well-”  
“You like me,  _don’t you?_ ”  
She said that once, right…? She could barely remember. It was true, but- “Yeah-”  
“So what’s the problem?” He just barely dug his teeth into her skin and he smirked when he felt a tremor course through her. “What’s stopping me from doing whatever I want with you right now?”  
“Three days.”  
He pulled back to give her a skeptical look. “What about it?”  
“I feel like you’re using this as a way to kill time and make me forget to ask where you were.”  
“Why do you-”  
“I wanna know.”  
He groaned and idly laid himself out until his head was on her lap. “There was a small conflict at my place of business.”  
“Okay, so a shootout?”  
“No… Yeah. And then I went back to my trailer and-” he muttered. “My mother was there.”  
She didn’t hear. “What?”  
“ _My mother was there,”_  he repeated irritably. "I had to get something for her and when I came back, she was gone. Just gone. No goodbye, no note, no 'I should’ve had a daughter’s. Just gone like she was never even there. And that… That fucked me up. So I drank and smoked up, and-” probably terrorized some pedestrians. “Did whatever. I don’t remember.”  
“That’s… Yeah…” Rosa wasn’t sure what to tell him. She didn’t have much experience with bad mothers. Just bad fathers. “I’m sorry that happened.”  
“Whatever,” he put up a wall. In her experience, all men did that. And he was no exception.  
“I get it, though.” She said. Fuck it, it was time to admit I. “My dad is… Well- You know why 'Vercetti’ sounds so familiar?”  
“Something I saw somewhere…”  
“The news. My dad was on the news in the 70’s. I got curious one day and looked him up online. Found old news clips about him being arrested. My dad’s Tommy Vercetti. The fucking Harwood Butcher..”  
“That’s it,” he nodded. “That’s where I heard it. I was just a kid at the time, but I remember hearing everyone talk about the Butcher.”  
“Yeah, so if you want to talk about bad parenting- my dad’s a mass murderer and my mom _might’ve_  helped him.” She definitely did. “So- when I found that out, I was really— fucked up over it. I started doing drugs. I didn’t know how else to deal with it. Everything just escalated from there.”  
 _She’s as fucked up as I am,_  he thought. He felt the same swell in his chest as when Patricia returned his affections. “Y'know— I love you.”  
She frowned. “What-”  
“Look, we’ve both got damages- why don’t we just be damaged together?”  
Her first instinct was to defend. “I’m  _not_ damaged!”  
“But you _are_ ,” he explained, quickly sitting up and taking her hands in his. “You understand what it’s like to have to fall back on a friend you can buy in a back alley. You’ve had your heart broken like I have, you’ve been thrown aside by a parent- I knew it before and I know it now: We’re meant to be together.”  
She felt sad for him. A broken down old man desperate for a connection with anyone. But what he said just made her feel worse. He was right about her relationship with Logan before… Was he right about this too?  
Was she actually so really fucked up inside and went this long without knowing it?  
She felt doomed to be the person she was before rehab. Lonely, unable to go more than a single day without her addictions because that was all there was to her.  
“Can I just– Can I sleep on this?” She felt the same way she did when he was criticizing her a few weeks before. Small. Like she already wasn’t much more than her absolute worst self. She couldn’t explain it, but this did make her feel connected to him. Like he was the only person who really knew her.  
“Yeah, yeah-” He spoke sort of softly- she wondered if he was still high. God only knows that his metabolism at his age wouldn’t process methamphetamine as quickly as someone her age.  
That would explain the emotional, dramatic turn the conversation took.  
Rosa sighed tiredly and set a hand on his chest. “Well… Let’s watch TV for a while. I think RCS is on.”  
  
After two episodes of Real Cunts of Suburbia, the mood lightened. Rosa and Trevor got a few laughs out of shit-talking the trashy family in Rockford Hills featured for the week. Rosa knew them- they were a loud family. She was pretty sure the cops showed up more than a few times for nonviolent domestic disputes.  
Their clothes were dry soon after, and she separated what was his.  
“It’s still raining pretty hard,” she noted. “So– we have a guest room if you don’t wanna drive until it’s cleared up.”  
“Are you asking me to stay the night?” He gave her a wry smile, eyebrows raised as he tried to imitate a sensual gaze. Instead he looked like he was trying not to nervously giggle like an immature fifteen year old.  
“I’m  _offering_ ,” she rolled her eyes. “There’s a difference.”  
“What if I don’t want to use the guest room?”  
“Couch.”  
“Aaaaand if I do, and your mom comes home before I wake up, she’s probably gonna call the cops.”  
“I know you’re trying to get into my bed.” She sneered. “You might as well ask outright.”  
“ _Oh my shitting god, can I just sleep in your bed with you? Please?_ ”  
"Are you gonna keep your hands to yourself?”  
“Probably not.”  
“Are you gonna ask again if I say no?”  
“Probably, yeah.”  
She analyzed the way he looked back at her. They’d shared a bed once already. He said nothing happened before. There were no indications that he’d lied, so–  
“Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Lying next to him wasn’t unpleasant, but she still expected him to pressure her into anything other than sleeping; so she kept her back to him at all times.  
There wasn’t much room to be separate- it was only a queen sized bed and he took up more room than she did.  
Trevor was more than happy to lay an arm over her waist and pull her against himself. They were warm- hot, actually. To the point where she would’ve taken off more clothes to cool off if she were alone. The closed windows and humidity from the storm outside didn’t help either.  
“I like your room,” he tried to break the silence in the darkness. “It’s less colorful than I pictured it.”  
“I’m too old for bright colors,“ she replied abruptly. “Neutrals are mature.”  
"It’s hot as  _balls_  in here, though. Hang on-” he shifted to prop himself up behind her. She could hear the rustling of fabric and then a faint pat on the hardwood floor before he settled back in behind her.  
She knew from the immediate heat on her exposed lower back that he’d taken off his shirt.  
He pulled her tighter against himself. She could feel him prodding at the back of her shorts. Pushing himself against her. “Cut it out, Trevor.”  
“Well maybe if you weren’t shoved up against me with a perfect ass in those shorts, there wouldn’t be something to cut out.”  
“I will make you sleep on the goddamn floor and not feel bad about it. Don’t think I won’t.”  
He groaned. “Fine, whatever,” he muttered under his breath something about her being a tease again.  
And after that, they laid the way they were until they fell asleep.   
She went under first. Warm and content.  
The speed leftover in his system would’ve kept him awake if it weren’t for how soothing it was to be lying beside her. The sweet smell of her shampoo near his nose lulled him to sleep. Happy- or at least feeling like he was.  
  
Rosa woke up to see the peachy skin of Trevor’s back. Her forehead had been against it and her arm was lying over him. Spooning. Warm. Pleasantly so.  
She sneered and was glad that he wasn’t awake to poke fun.  
She turned onto her other side and scooted away from him, peeking under the covers to ensure that she was still fully dressed and that they didn’t lazily undress and rut against each other in the middle of the night.  
Nope, still dressed.  
That’s twice they shared a bed. And he didn’t do anything to her while she slept.  
Okay, so maybe she  _could_  trust him to wait on her.  _Maybe._  
He said he loved her- on more than one occasion now.  
The memory made her stomach into a pit of dread. She had to have an answer for him at some point. He clearly was not a patient man and would not wait forever.  
Rosa let out a sigh. Hapless.  
“I’m hoooome!” Lita’s muffled, cheerful voice greeted from the staircase and grew closer.  
 _Fuck! She slept through Lita coming in!_  
Rosa tried to scramble for the door to beat her to it; but her foot got caught in the duvet cover and she tripped halfway off the bed and fell to the floor with a loud thud.

Lita must’ve heard that because she opened the door without knocking. “Did you just fall-” She froze in the doorway, hand still holding the handle as she looked on to see Rosa getting to her feet, and an older, half-clothed man in her daughter’s bed just waking up and looking more inconvenienced than anything else.  
Rosa looked to Trevor, then to Lita. Mortified. Unsure of how to explain any of this.  
“So… You must be Rosa’s mom,” he seemed oblivious to how horrifically, inexplicably bad the moment was as he got out of bed patted the woman on the arm. “I’m Trevor.”  
“ _Uh-huh_ …” Lita said slowly, examining him with a look of combined dismay and disgust.  _Who the fuck was this guy? What the fuck was he doing in her home? What in the ever loving FUCK WAS HE DOING WITH HER TWENTY YEAR OLD DAUGHTER?_  She wanted to scream, to call the police– to attack him. But the look in his eyes was familiar. A murderer.  _Just like her._  
He gave her a similar, knowing stare and with a cocky grin said: “Well, ma'am, I’d just like to take the time to let you know that you have a very smart,  _very_  beautiful daughter. I see which side of the family she gets it all from. Now if you’ll excuse me-” He picked up the clothes Rosa had washed for him and patted Lita’s arm again as he moved past her in the doorway with a sense of entitlement that made her see red. “-I  _really_  need to take a piss. Nice house, by the way.”  
Lita’s fist clenched as he touched her again. She stared lividly into her daughter’s wide brown eyes and they stood in dead silence until they heard the bathroom door close down the hall.  
Lita tried to speak calmly, but sounded hostile nonetheless. “ _Tell him to leave. You and I need to talk._ ”  
Rosa had never heard her mother use the tone of voice with her before, and felt her pulse throbbing loudly in her eardrums as she weakly replied; “Okay.”


	10. Where Else Would You Go?

If it wasn’t bad enough that her mother came in before Trevor could leave, CJ and Ken were there too. They all originally came for Bloody Marys and talks of future tours of Paul’s band.  
Instead, the men waited awkwardly downstairs as Trevor left; leaving Rosa in the lion’s den with the other adults in her life.  
“Who the fuck was that!?” Lita shouted as soon as she saw Trevor’s red Bodhi pull away from the road. “What was he doing here!?”  
“He’s-” Rosa didn’t know how to answer the question. “He’s a friend of mine, we-”  
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” CJ groaned. “Man, we been over this. Rosa, I thought you was over the worst of this shit.”  
“I am,” she defended. She was made to sit down at the kitchen counter while they stood.  
Ken stood nearby at her side, unsure of what to do or say. He believed that Rosa’s promise to him was being upheld until then. He bailed her out of a holding cell and made her promise.  
CJ was on the other side of the kitchen, staring her down and wondering why Rosa  would resort to anything like this. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He’d ceased most illegal activity back in the 90’s, and age was catching up to him with the more relaxed, affluent lifestyle he’d made for himself and his brother and sister. He was in his mid 40’s now. He’d spent a lot of time in between helping Lita to raise Rosa to be successful and out of the eye of the law. How did a girl he knew since birth grow up to be a coke addict?  
Lita paced back and forth angrily, her strappy sandals clacking on the kitchen’s stone tile. The only person who couldn’t stay still. Trevor’s presence had set something off in her. The way he moved around her house like he belonged there made her consider murder for the first time in around twenty years.  
“Five months,” Lita growled. “Five months in rehab and it all gets undone by some balding redneck asshole who thinks he belongs inside this house!”  
“Oh my god,” Rosa muttered under her breath. “You told me you weren’t gonna do this again,” Ken said defeatedly- and instantly regretting it once Lita looked at him.  
“When was this?” She demanded, rather than asked.  
“A-A month ago-” he said. Damn it, why couldn’t he lie? He was already planning to, but Lita knew how to spot a lie in an instant– at least from him.  
Rosa, however– “Did  _you_ know about this, Carl?” Lita asked.  
“This’s all fuckin’ news to me,” he shrugged.  
“Explain. Everything.” Lita demanded, slapping her palm on the kitchen counter.  
Rosa shakily explained how she was off the wagon at the time. Why?  
 _Because she was fucking bored_. Of all the Spoiled-Rockford-Hills-Kid type reasons, she went back to doing cocaine because she was bored.  
How she was arrested, how Ken came to save her- she’d paid him the bail money back. It was an electronic transfer around the time she brought home the motorcycle.  
“Where did you get the money to pay me back?” Ken hesitantly asked.  
“And the tattoo. And the motorcycle,” Lita added. “You said you took out a loan but I don’t even think you have a job anymore! You come home drunk almost every fucking day- did you think I didn’t notice that!?”  
The walls were closing in.  
Rosa began to panic. If her hands weren’t set in her lap, they’d be trembling. She felt like she couldn’t move an inch; like she was rooted to her spot from the anxiety of confrontation.  
“-Sleeping with disgusting old men, letting them into our house-” Lita’s rants fell on deaf ears as Rosa tried to piece together a lie. She couldn’t even think straight.  
She couldn’t tell them the truth. She was in too deep with how much of that money she’d spent. They were all guilty of criminal offenses. They wouldn’t turn her in to the police- that was certain. But they wouldn’t hesitate to throw Trevor, a stranger, under the bus. It would lead the police to Franklin and Michael- maybe Lester? And he’d offer her up as leverage in a heartbeat.  
“ _-Tommie!_ ” Lita shouting at her broke her train of thought.  
Rosa looked at her mother and realized that her vision blurred. Her eyes were welled up with tears- she wasn’t sure why.  
 _You’re scared,_  she told herself.  _You fucking idiot._  
“Are you doing coke again? Are you selling it?” Her mother’s voice sounded distant, and Rosa momentarily had the notion that she, herself, wasn’t even actually there. That this wasn’t reality and it’d be over in an instant.  
“No-”  
They stared each other down. In fact, all eyes never left Rosa. She felt about an inch high– pathetic.  
“I don’t believe you,” Lita said suddenly, grabbing her purse and sunglasses off of the kitchen counter. “We’re going down to the clinic in Central.”  
“ _What the fuck for!?_ ” Rosa snapped.  
“A drug test.” CJ said.  
“If you fail this…” Lita warned, pointing a finger at her daughter. She didn’t have a follow-up. She didn’t want to threaten Rosa. Raising a child in Rockford Hills made her go soft- much too lenient. She thought this was what being a good mother was like nowadays. But there was so much shit piling up from all of this that she felt like there was nothing to do but kick her out to just let her throw her life away if she wanted.  
It may have felt harsh any other time, but right then…  
“I’m not going to a fucking clinic because I’m not on anything!” Rosa shouted back. She stood up so quickly that the iron stool under her tipped over and crashed onto the floor as she strode away to the stairs. “I’m leaving!”  
“Where the fuck do you think you’re gonna go!?” Lita yelled, following behind her daughter. CJ followed behind as well, only keeping a distance. Ken stayed where he was, taken aback at what was unfolding in front of him.  
Rosa was usually a good kid. Always had been. But he saw Tommy in her when she got angry. Maybe there was no fixing this no matter how many times they intervened.  
“Like I’m gonna tell you!” Rosa retorted. She slammed the door of her room open and grabbed her backpack- the same one she’d used for the heist. The main pocket was empty, but the front was full of the cash leftover from the car she’d sold to LS Customs. About $7,500 in assorted bills. She started shoving clothes into the large pocket. Nothing fancy, just bras, panties, socks, a couple pairs of jeans, some shirts-  
“You can’t just leave!” Lita’s anger faltered for the briefest of moments, and she was a Rockford Hills Mom again. She tried to maintain authority- and it wasn’t effective anymore.  
“Watch me! I’m taking my bike and I’m gone!” Rosa remembered she was still in the shorts and crop top she fell asleep in. She feverishly worked to strip out of the outfit and put on a new one.  
CJ came up behind Lita, saw Rosa changing clothes, and promptly walked away. Yeah, she was twenty, but she was practically his niece. That wasn’t something he wanted to see.  
The first outfit she could grab was a pair of rolled up jeans and an LSSA shirt that drooped off her shoulder. She stepped into a pair of high tops, slung her backpack over her shoulder and strode past her mother toward the bathroom.  
“You’re just gonna fucking throw your life away!?” Lita’s anger flared to life again. “For what!? A bump? A fucking  _disgusting_  old man– is he your dealer!?”  
“I told you I’m not on anything! I’m not selling anything!” Rosa defended, swiping her toothbrush, hair brush, and makeup bag off of the counter and shoving them on top of the clothes before forcing the zipper shut.  
“What is  _that?_ ” Lita’s voice was alarmingly calm- and Rosa stopped to look at her.  
She followed her mother’s gaze back to her backpack- where the front pocket was half unzipped and several hundred dollar bills were peeking out; having been pushed up and out by the main pocket filling up.  
“Nothing!”  
“Where did you get that money!?” Lita shouted, disappearing into the bathroom.  
“ _Money?_ ” CJ frowned, moving toward he bathroom door. Ken finally came upstairs, standing close behind him and peering in as well. They found Rosa trying to wrench the backpack away from Lita’s hands.  
“ _Let go!_ ” Rosa shrieked.  
“ _Tell me where you got the money!_ ” Lita barked.  
“ _NO!_ ” Rosa ripped the backpack away from her mother’s grip- but Lita’s fingers caught the zipper and split it open, allowing the $7,500 to spill out and scatter everywhere on the pale vinyl flooring.  
They all stared at the cash at the two women’s feet. Silent.  
Without a word, Rosa pushed past CJ and Ken in the door and rushed down the stairs. She grabbed her keys and helmet at the door and slammed it shut before anyone could follow her into the garage.  
The garage door opened too slowly for her liking, and she got on the bike and started it while she waited for the door to open.  
It wasn’t even up all of the way when she began to move the bike out into the driveway.  
“Rosa, wait!” CJ called as he ran out of the house to her.  
“I’m not staying here!”  
“Hold up, wait-” he blocked her path, hands on her arms to root her in place. “Listen, just go to the clinic with me. We can talk ‘bout all this shit and calm ya moms down.”  
“Can you stop trying to act like my dad for two fucking minutes!?” She snapped, shrugging his hands away. “You  _and_  Ken! Neither of you are my parents so will you please,  _for fuck’s sake_ , stay out of this!?”  
“Nah, you’re right. I ain’t ya fuckin’ dad. But I’m ya fuckin’ family, Tommie,” he said. “Me n’ Ken give a shit about you. We was there when you was born. We watched you grow up. We  _love_  you. Ya moms loves you. She’s scared. She don’t want you to leave. Guess that ain’t good enough to stay for.”  
 _Fuck…_  
She wanted to say she was sorry, to tell him that she loved him and Ken too. She wanted to say that this was all a huge misunderstanding and…  
But she didn’t.  
Instead she lowered her helmet over her head and revved the bike. CJ was made to get out of her way, and watched in disappointment as she drove off.  
  
“I need your help,” she said. She had to put on the speaker phone because her hands shook so hard that her earrings kept tapping against the screen of her phone.  
 _“What’s goin’ on?”_  He asked.  _“You alright?”_  
“I-I’m fine. I just– I left my house. I don’t have anywhere else to go. Can I stick with you until I get an apartment or something?”  
 _“Yeah,”_  he said.  _“Where are you? You need me to come get you?”_  
“I have my bike,” she replied. “I’ll head your way in a little bit… thanks, Franklin.”  
She dropped her phone into her pocket once they hung up and replaced it with an unopened pack of Redwoods and a lighter.  
Her hands shakily opened the cellophane and she had to force them steady when she lit up. The tremors ceased when smoke filled her lungs and she began to feel slightly lightheaded. She hadn’t smoked a cigarette in two years.  
Smoke swirled in the warm air around Vespucci Beach. It was the first place she could think of to go that nobody would look for her. She parked her bike near the weed shop and found a bench to sit on, backpack and helmet at her side.  
She couldn’t call Michael or Tracey. They lived right next door. They didn’t need to know about family drama. Plus, something told her that Michael wouldn’t want to help anyway.  
Trevor wasn’t an option with this. She would  _not_  live in the back room of a strip club.  
There was no way she’d call Lester, so that left Franklin. He had a big house in Vinewood Hills all to himself.  
“Rosa?”  
Her head jerked in the direction of the voice- and she found Jimmy De Santa wearing a Burger Shot polo and baseball cap. He had a light sheen of sweat across his face- which was strange since it wasn’t much hotter today than any other day.  
“H-Hey, Jimmy,” she said. “What’s going on?”  
“I’m on break,” he said, tugging at the polo that was sticking to his moist skin. “I got a job at the one in Vespucci Canals. I-I like to come here on my lunch break.” He motioned to her backpack. “Can I sit with you?”  
“Yeah, sure,” she said quietly, moving her backpack to sit between her feet before flicking ashes off of her cigarette. Her helmet sat in her lap. Jimmy sat down next to her, making sure to keep from touching.  
He graduated high school a year after her, so they knew each other for a longer time than she knew Tracey. But they weren’t friends. Jimmy never had female friends. Instead he tried to date any girl or befriend any boy whose skin was darker than his. Including Rosa. There were rumors that he always had a crush on her. It was obvious.  
“S-So what’s the backpack for? Did you go back to school again?” He asked.  
“I’m moving out.”  
“Are you leaving Los Santos?” He frowned, wiping the sweat from under his nose with the back of his hand.  
There was a brief pause as she took a drag. This gave her a moment to choose an answer. “I don’t know yet.”  
“Where else would you go?”  
 _Huh… good question. There was Las Venturas. San Fierro. Or even farther away- maybe Liberty City, or… or Vice City… Vice City did have one of the best universities in the U.S…. Fuck no, Tommy was there. Fuck Tommy Vercetti._  
“Maybe Sandy Shores,” he suggested. “Uncle T lives out there. I know you guys have been hanging out a lot.”  
She felt the color drain from her face. “We don’t-”  
“I see his car pull up all the time but he doesn’t come to harass my dad. And I saw you guys go into your house yesterday during the storm. Most people wouldn’t think much of it but I’m preeeeeeetty sure you guys are dating.”  
She rubbed her eyes and flicked ashes away again. The faint remains of waterproof mascara rubbed off onto the her fingers of her other hand. “We aren’t dating, why does everyone think that?”  
“I mean- I know Trace is dating F-Dog. My dad hates it but I don’t think it’s a race thing. And as soon as Trevor stopped coming around to hang out with him so often, I thought it was like the same thing.”  
“Well… kind of,” she muttered. She stood up and stretched out her back before picking up her bag and helmet. She dropped the butt of her Redwood on the concrete and snuffed it out with her shoe. “Speaking of ‘F-Dog’, I’m about to go visit him. Don’t tell anyone I’m there- I don’t want Tracey thinking we’re hooking up and I don’t want your dad to come murder me.”  _More like: I don’t want word to get to my mom about where I am._  “I’ll see you around, Jimmy.”  
“Will you, though?” He frowned. “You’re going away.”  
She shrugged. “We’ll see how things turn out.”


	11. Third Time's The Charm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW, read at your own discretion.

_“Get home NOW!”  
“We have to talk.”  
“Where r u?”  
“Call me right now.”  
“Come home.”  
“Please come home.”  
“Call me Tommie.”  
“I love u Tommie please come home.”  
“Please call me.”  
“I’m sorry I yelled please call me.”  
“I need to know if ur ok. I love u.”  
_  
It had only been a day since she left home. Lita sent a text every hour or so, and left voicemails at least every three hours. Rosa hadn’t replied to any.  
This was just the first batch since she woke up that morning.  
“I don’t know what to do,” she said. She’d explained the story to Franklin. Everything from Tommy Vercetti to her stay in rehab so that he understood the context of yesterday’s events. He seemed trustworthy- moreso than the others. She felt that she could confide in him. “I can’t just tell my family that I’m an accessory to grand larceny.”  
“Shit, that’s a lotta information,” he scratched his head. Franklin wasn’t especially used to company. The deal was to have her there for a couple of days so she could figure out where to go, what story to tell her mom. He was kind of glad to have her there, so that he didn’t lose his mind only talking to Chop all day. Hell, he had better conversations with the Rottweiler than with most other people. “It was prob'ly a good idea to leave. But what are you gon’ do?”  
“I don’t know,” she moaned, rubbing her eyes for the tenth time in the last five minutes. She felt so tired, but she woke up not too long ago. “I don’t know what to do.”  
“Anybody else know ‘bout all this?”  
“Lester,” she said. “But he only knows  _some_  of the details. You’re the only one who knows the whole thing. I told Trevor a little bit. But only about my dad.”  
“Bondin’, huh?” He gave her a knowing smirk and she rolled her eyes.  
“Trying to get him to calm the fuck down about his mommy issues.”  
“And it worked? Shit, that’s new.”  
They were quiet for a short moment, and he had to ask the question that was weighing on his mind. “You and T- are y'all a thing?”  
“A thing?” She pulled a face. Like– were they?? They never really talked about it. But they were around each other a lot.  
“Y'all left the party together. N’ it sounds like y'all been hangin’ out a lot.”  
“We have been,” she nodded. “But I wouldn’t call us a thing. We haven’t  _done_  anything. He’s just been teaching me to shoot so I can be involved in more jobs.”  
“Lester hasn’t found anythang yet.” He said. “Been stagnant.”  
“I’m gonna end up needing more money if I find somewhere else to live. I have bills to pay.” She sighed and left her seat, absently walking into the living room, just a few feet away.  
“Imma hook you up when the time comes. Imma make sure you ain’t gettin’ left out.”  
“Thanks, Frank.” She spotted a picture on one of his shelves of him and another girl. “Hey, do you have a sister?”  
“Uh-” he peered into the living room and spotted her looking at the picture. “Nah, that’s a old picture. My ex. Tanisha.” He came over and picked up the picture. “I forgot to take it down. Tracey prob'ly wouldn’t like it if I had a picture of somebody else out.”  
“She’s really pretty.” Rosa smiled.  
He looked sadly down at the picture. “Yeah.”  
They went quiet again, this time she felt a little less tense. Speaking of which- “How’s it going with Tracey, anyway?”  
He tried to conceal a smile, seeming to forget how he felt about the picture and putting it away on another shelf, facedown. “Good, I think. But she wants to go to VCU. After ULSA in a couple years. Long distance.”  
“So you see this as a _long_  term relationship?” She play pushed him.  
She saw his face turn red. “Man, I ain’t tellin’ you shit anymore.”  
Her laughter was interrupted by his phone ringing. “Hold up-” he said, sliding his phone out of his pocket and checking the caller ID. “Wassup, Michael?”  
Rosa couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation.  
“Nah, she’s here wit’ me… 'Cause she couldn’t come to you or T… He ain’t got anywhere for her to sleep… A'ight, homie. We’ll be here.”  
“Sounds like my mom reached out to the De Santas.” Her phone began to ring. That same Fergie song. “Yup. There’s Tracey.”  
“You gonna answer?”  
“She doesn’t need to know I’m staying at her boyfriend’s house. Context.”  
“Yeah, well- Michael’s comin’ out here.”  
“Goddamn it. I guess  _everybody_  gets to know my life now!”  
After all, everything that happens in the dark, eventually comes out in the light.  
  
 _“howd it go with ur mom?”  
“I moved out.”_  
She’d been texting Trevor while giving Michael the abridged version of her life story- leading up to why she wouldn’t be going home. She and Michael had stepped outside so they could both smoke. He muttered something about having just quit when he lit up.  
“So you and Trevor  _are_  hooking up?” Was his first question.  
Weird choice. But okay. “No, we haven’t gone that far.”  
He squinted. “For real? He’s  _letting_  you make him wait? Are we talking about the same Trevor?”  
She frowned, flicking ashes onto the concrete of Franklin’s driveway. “I’m starting to think we aren’t. Why does that all matter?”  
“It doesn’t,” he replied quickly. Something in his tone was defensive.  
 _Weird._  
Trevor sent another message.  _“were r u staying?”  
_ She wouldn’t worry about answering that yet.  
Michael took a long drag on his Redwood and exhaled the smoke in a deep sigh. “It’s just- he’s fucking insane. He thinks he’s in love with you. I get that it sounds like a fun, exciting thing for a girl your age to have an eccentric, rich old man be interested in you, but-”  
“Hey, whoa, I never said anything about loving him!” She interrupted, pointing her cigarette at him. “I don’t care if he’s rich or poor, I’m having a good time before I die a boring fucking death after a boring fucking life that doesn’t mean anything- like everybody else in LS!”  
Michael, rubbed his eyes tiredly. It was like talking to a brick wall. Or, like, his own kids. She just didn’t get the point. “Look,” he said sternly. “I know you’re pissed off because you’re hearing it from your fucking neighbor and not a father figure. But Trevor doesn’t actually love you. He’s not capable of it. He doesn’t know what any half-respectable version of love is. He clings onto any kindness anybody shows him and never goes away. It becomes suffocating. Fucking scary as shit.”  
It sounded like he really didn’t like the idea of Trevor being with anybody. What was the deal with that…?  
“I need you to trust me when I say that I’m looking out for you by telling you to stay away from Trevor. It’s not gonna end well. For anyone.” Michael shook his head. Trevor, his family, and now his neighbor’s daughter were fucking killing him by this point. Fuckin’ A… What he would give for a drink right now… “Rosa, you’re not the first person he’s obsessed over. There was this older Mexican lady before- Patricia. He fucking kidnapped her, kept her around for weeks. Insisted that he was in love with her because she was nice to him and kind of looked like his mom. It was a Stockholm Syndrome-y shit show of a relationship. I’m pretty sure he’s not even over it.”  
“So how’d it end?”  
“He gave her back to her husband. The shockingly right thing to do. He won’t do something like that twice… I get that your life’s not my business, and I’m not trying to give you any fatherly advice. But this is bad for everyone. Your best option is to forget about Trevor and go home to your mom. She asked me to bring you back, and I said I’d deliver.”  
She wanted to scoff. Michael De Santa, father of the year, notorious thief and proud parent of a stoner and an amateur porn star, surely would have some fascinating fatherly advice.  
 _… Wait…_  
”Why are you so keen on doing the favor of bringing me home to my mother?” She asked suspiciously.  
He suddenly found himself unable to look her in the eyes. “Your mom and I are friends. We have been since you were all kids.”  
A memory of Michael being in her house one day when she came back to school flashed through her mind. He claimed to be there to help fix the kitchen sink, but she didn’t remember it ever being broken. Lita had never mentioned it.  
The realization clicked. “ _Oh my god, you're fucking my mom!_ ” She gasped, face paling in horror.  
”No, no way-” he spluttered. Caught in a lie.  
She wanted to puke. “I’m not Amanda, you can’t bullshit me!”  
”Fuck-  _fine!_  We hooked up! It was years ago. We don’t anymore.”  
”Holy shit,  _how fucking long ago!?_ ”  
He had to think about it. “... I think you were in middle school.”  
 _”FUCK.”_ She stared angrily at him for a moment and took one last drag on her Redwood.  
They were caught in an awkward, dead silence. You could hear a pin drop… You could hear ants having sex…  _Jesus Christ_. “Yeah, y’know… You’re completely right, Mr. De Santa.” She dropped her cigarette onto the concrete and snuffed it out with her shoe. “My life’s not your fuckin’ business. And I'd like you to back the fuck off.”  
They stood in silence for a long minute while Michael finished off his cigarette, shaking his head solemnly. “Suit yourself, kid. I’m gonna tell your mom that you refused to come. I won’t say where you are, but I’ll tell her I told you to find me if you change your mind about leaving… But listen,” he stared deeply into her eyes so that she would listen closely to what he’d tell her. “If you decide that you don’t feel safe around him anymore and you need an out,  _call me_. I’ll take care of it.” Without another word, he got into his car and drove off.

  
 _“Where are you now?”_  She asked.  
“Strip club,” he answered, hand over the mic of his phone to keep the bass of Mike Posner’s music from deafening her on the other end. The club was close to empty- it was early in the day so only single, unemployed, alcoholics were there. Also Wade. Wade never left.  
Like seven guys in total. “You want me to come get you?”  
 _“I’m on my way out to you,”_  she replied. She sounded agitated. Urgent. _“Just stay there.”_  
  
The drive to Strawberry felt longer than it actually was despite the fact that there wasn’t much traffic on main streets. She found Trevor inside, sitting at the bar’s counter and drinking a beer. He waved her over as soon as he saw her and she sat in the bar stool next to him.  
“Rosa Salamanca,” he greeted her.  
She managed a smile. “Trevor Philips.”  
He set his hand on her lower back when she scooted herself closer. “What can I  _do_  you for?”  
“Funny you should ask, because that’s exactly what I want you to do. Right now.”  
He nearly choked on his beer and had to put down the bottle when he looked at her, waiting for her to say she was joking. She hadn’t been the one to make the joke before. Just react.  
“C'mon,” something in her tone sounded off to him.  
He was right to think that too.  
She just didn’t care anymore. What was the point in denying herself something she wanted? Dignity?  _What the fuck was dignity?_  She could fill the void with various numbing agents; just like before when she was wild and free. Before rehab.  
So he chugged the last half of his beer and left his seat. “Let’s go.”  
She followed him toward the back room, passing up about a half a dozen strippers and passing the VIP section once more.  
The guy with the piercings on his face ( _his name was Wade, right?_ ) was still sitting on the couch, all but held down by a couple of strippers. “Hey, Trevor- What day’s it? I feel like we been here for months n’-”  
“Shut the fuck up, Wade! I’m busy!” Trevor barked in passing. Rosa followed closely behind, she and Wade sharing an observational stare at each other until they were out of sight.  
As soon as they got to the back room and the door shut behind them, Trevor shoved her up against the wall and seized the skin of her throat with his lips.  
Even though her pulse was pounding in her ears, she felt at ease. Her problems couldn’t chase her here.  
“I am going to  _destroy_  you,” he growled against her skin while he began to pull at her clothes.  
“Before that, I was thinking we’d do something else first to make it more fun,” she giggled, halfheartedly trying to push his hands away.  
Instead of trying to undress her, he settled for grabbing her ass. “Fuck, anything you want.”  
“Got any blow?”  
  
He cleared off a spot on his desk and they huddled around the porno magazine he’d used as a flat surface. Trevor was first to do a line, and then Rosa followed. She exhaled with a satisfied moan, and laughed to herself once she felt her face become numb, just like every time.  
Off the wagon again; but fuck it, who cared? The rush was worth it!  
Trevor noted that she was breathing more heavily, and he watched her chest heave.  
She looked at him the way he looked at a dead man when he was hungry… or just bored enough to eat.  
So without second thought, he shoved everything that was on his cluttered desk onto the floor. “On the desk,” he ordered.  
She didn’t need to be told twice. She jumped out of her seat so fast that it fell backward onto the dirty carpet then sat on the desk. Trevor stood just as quickly, putting himself between her thighs, and was pleasantly surprised when she kissed him with an almost animalistic force.  
 _Oh, this is gonna be great…!_  
This was the third time they’d had the opportunity to do the dirty deed.  
He wouldn’t strike out three times.  
He quickly pulled her shirt over her head, and was surprised to see that she eagerly helped him to take it off before she pulled at his as well. She kicked off her shoes as he feverishly worked to unbuckle her belt.  
She had to stand so that she could peel out of her jeans. He worked on abandoning his own pants in the mean time.  
He moved on to kiss her neck while his hands roamed all over her. And once she caught a glance of his underwear, she burst out in a fit of giggles which made him pull back looking absolutely baffled.  
“ _Leopard print!_ ” She clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle the following laughter. “ _That’s fucking great!_ ” She took her hand away to pull him into another kiss.  
Trevor laughed too, almost manically at the moment- her reaction was absurd and priceless and he could feel her still smiling against his lips. Even if she was making fun, this was still a pretty good time. It’d been the first time there was some good-natured laughter in the middle of sex since… well… since before Michael married Amanda.  
“If you keep laughing, I’m gonna just make this one for me.” He reached behind her back and expertly unhooked her bra before he threw it across the room like trash. She was actually surprised to see how quickly he got it off.  
“Fine, you win,” she smirked. “Just be sure to show me a good time, or…” She wanted to say something witty, but lost her train of thought once his rough fingers touched the bare skin of her breasts. His thumbs rubbed circles around her nipples and she shivered at the feeling.  
She looked up at him and saw how fixated he looked. Eyes trained on her chest, brows knitted together as he licked his scarred lips in anticipation.  
“I have wanted to do this since I first saw you,” he muttered.  
“Trust me, I could tell,” she replied, biting her lower lip as her fingers grazed the outline of his erection through his underwear. He suddenly abandoned what he was doing to slide one hand into her panties and use the other to start easing them off. She shuddered and reflexively grabbed his forearm as soon as he touched her clit, and looked up to see the focused look of arousal on his face. The sense of control over her was intoxicating to him- after all this time of not being able to have a moment like this, it was heaven just to get this far. Skin to skin contact.  
“Fuck, Trevor…” She uttered just above a whisper. The pad of his finger moved only millimeters back and forth on the gland, but the feeling it elicited was exponentially more intense.  
“Yeah?” He teased, face burying into the crook of her neck so he could bite the skin. He almost wanted to hurt her.  
He wouldn’t. But he debated it.  
Until he felt her fingernails digging into his back. He pulled back with a grunt, seeing the ugly purple bruise where his mouth was on her neck. Rosa gave him a cheeky grin and bit her tongue between her teeth.  
“Fuck was that for?” He glared.  
“You bit me, it  _hurt_ , I got even.”  
He slid her panties down her legs and she shifted to help them off. “Fine, let’s see you get even with  _this!_ ” He watched her eyes widen when he shoved her thighs far apart and sink down to his knees. He pulled her closer to the edge of the desk by her hips and unceremoniously put his tongue to work where his fingers had been.  
Rosa gasped sharply. If it weren’t for Trevor’s hands keeping her legs apart, her reflexes would’ve jerked them together. “Ohhhhhh my goooooood-” she felt her blood rush in exhilaration. She covered her mouth to muffle an involuntarily high-pitched moan. She didn’t think she could wait any longer. She wanted him to- wait— shit! “Please tell me you have a condom.”  
He paused and glanced up at her. “Nope.”  
She frowned. “Well they’re kind of important.”  
“So there’s no chance of me talking you into fucking me without one?”  
“Pretty much.”  
 _FUCK, NOT AGAIN._  
“Wait here!” He ordered. Before she could say another word, he was running out of the room.  _Naked._  
 _What the shit-_  
“Desperation does that kind of shit, I guess.”  
  
He ran back in moments later, quickly unwrapping a rubber and unrolling it onto himself. “Had to borrow one from a loyal customer. You can imagine how happy he was to see me approach him with my dick out.”  
“Nice to see the lengths you’ll go to get laid!” She laughed. She pictured him running out into the club naked, finding the first guy in there, and shaking him down for a condom– and the poor guy would probably give him an entire pack if it’d make the weird naked guy who owned the club go away!  
“Oh, this ain’t shit compared to how far I’d go to rail you– I just don’t have to go that far today.” He kissed her again once more and stood between her thighs. She shuddered when he rubbed himself against her. “Get ready for the best two minutes of your life.”  
“A whole minute and thirty seconds longer than my last boyfriend. Now c’mon, let’s go.”  
“Say please.”  
“ _Shut up and fuck me._ ”  
“Close enough!”  
She went stiff with a gasp as she felt him inch his way inside of her. Pushed all the way in until he was shoved against her sweet spot. He didn’t waste a single moment, finding a steady rhythm and keeping it while still fighting the impulse to treat her like an animal– or at least kind of trying.  
Minutes ticked on and she lost track of time in all of the fun. She yelped once he started going harder. The sound of their bodies clapping together grew loud and rapid and she clawed at his back again; lost in absolute ecstasy as she felt an orgasm starting to climb to its peak.  
“I’m gonna cum,” he said between grunts. The pain of his back being raked by her nails only amplified his enjoyment.  
“No the fuck you aren’t!” She groaned. “I’m not done!”  
“Okayokay- _effort_.” He wagged his eyebrows at her and pushed her chest until she was lying back on the desk. Rosa felt her cheeks flush. They were completely naked and in the middle of sex but she only felt prone just now. He anchored his hands onto the surface of the desk on either side of her and began to thrust wildly, immediately making Rosa shriek with bliss. She felt numb to everything around her- the only thing she could even tell was happening was the building pressure below her belly button and the euphoria of cocaine and sex flowing through her veins.  
Trevor didn’t stop for even half of a second, forcing himself to hold out. He stared down at Rosa’s face and found that he was absently mimicking her O-face.  
He wanted to kiss her until her lips were swollen and bruised.  
He wanted to leave more hickeys all over her neck and chest to mark her as his.  
He kind of wanted to  _eat_  her.  
 _The fuck, man?_  
Rosa squeezed her eyes shut and focused on just  _feeling_. The pressure built higher each time he pushed in, further and further until-  
“Fuck, I’m-” She lost her voice for a moment, forgetting to breathe when the best orgasm she’d ever had with a man hit her like a brick wall. She finally released her breath as a loud, un-suppressed moan and propped herself up to kiss him in the heat of the moment.  
Trevor couldn’t wait any longer once he felt her walls convulsing around him from her climax. Her spontaneous kiss set him over the edge, and he pulled back from her with a low, satisfied moan as he reached his own finale.  
“I love you,” he breathed, feeling himself shake as he passed the apex of his pleasure and began to come down from the high. He kissed her again and again. “I fucking  _love_  you.”  
“Mmm,” she hummed against his lips. Another idle response.  
How much longer could she go without giving him an answer?  
What even was her answer? She hadn’t put enough thought into it yet. Maybe it was time to start?  
They stared into each other’s eyes, the tips of their noses touching.  
She didn’t answer him again.  
This reminded him of how Michael kept the news of Brad’s death from him for weeks after they’d reunited.  
Why wouldn’t she just fucking tell him she loved him and get it over with?  
She  _had_  to.  
He knew she did.  
At least a little?  
He decided to be strategic and keep his mouth shut. They just fucked in his office after hearing her say it wouldn’t happen about a dozen times. Progress was happening.  
“So,” he said. “Wanna get something to eat?”  
“Fuck yeah.”


	12. Self Loathing

“I asked you earlier where you were staying now that you moved out,” Trevor said, wiping beer off his lips with the back of his hand. “I don’t recall getting an answer.”  
 _Shit._  
“I don’t really wanna talk about it.”  
“You didn’t wanna tell me about Golf Course Boy either and look how that turned out.”  
 _Fuck, fine._  
“I guess I’m staying with Franklin.” She shrugged, starting to pick up the mess they’d made when he pushed everything from his desk into the floor. They’d gotten cleaned up and dressed, ran out to Burger Shot, then back to the strip club to bullshit for a while.  
Trevor, who ignored the mess and settled onto the couch, looked astounded by her answer. Like he was shocked that she considered Franklin’s place the best option. “Why?”  
“He has room for me to stay. I can’t go to Michael. And-”  
“What about me?”  
“You live out of  _here_ ,” she said, popping open a bottle of Dusche he’d grabbed for her. She may as well drink while she sorted out the papers and picked up pens.  
“I don’t  _‘live out of here’_ ,” Trevor mocked. “I run jobs out of here. I own the club and the Feds don’t look at my source of income because most of it is in cash. I live out in Blaine County where my _real_ business is.”  
“I don’t think I’ve ever asked what your business is… So what is it?”  
“I’ll show you sometime,” he said. “Take you out for a grand tour of Assfuck, Nowhere; where the best part of being there is the assfucking.”  
“Nah, I think I’m good.”  
He spoke over her. “We’ll make a weekend out of it. Swim in the Alamo Sea, drive around the country, shoot at the coyotes, smoke crystal-”  
“I’m not doing meth!”  
“-and fuck on every surface in every room of my humble abode- it’ll be great!” Part of him was certain that having her around all the time would make her love him.  
It worked so far, right? She went from rejecting him to screwing him, so… win-win!  
Rosa, on the other hand, was more concerned with how she let herself slip so far within a day. She stared at the dirty magazine they’d done lines of coke on and felt regret. Self-loathing. She promised Ken she wouldn’t do it again.  
But here she was, coming down from the high and having had sex with a guy she was still partially nauseated by.  
Yeah, she liked him, but… why did she do this to herself?  
 _To get back at Michael for nailing my mom, obviously._  The petty thought rang in the back of her head, but was quickly buried by thoughts of how she was now, officially, lying about not being on drugs again. In her anger, the only thing that was important was petty revenge on her neighbor for sleeping with her mother.  
 _Ugh._  
She just wanted to do more coke. At least she didn’t feel a fucking thing when she was high as a kite. Just normal urges like the need to have sex and the need for the thrill of robbing a convenience store. Those were fun times. Awful and self-deprecating. But fun enough to forget about that part.  
 _“You get_ one _, Rosa,”_ she remembered Ken lecturing her after last time.  
Just one. One bailout. She wouldn’t get lucky again-  
“Hey, you still fucked up or what?” Trevor broke her train of thought.  
“I’m good,” she said. “I’m just thinking about heading back to F’s place. I’m pretty tired.”  
More like overwhelmed. She just wanted to lie on the couch and be pissed off at everyone and everything in peace, without anyone trying to grab her ass and tell her that her traumas were a deep and profound part of her.  
“I wore you out, eh?” Trevor smirked.  
She feigned a smile. “Yeah, for sure.”  
She looked at un-drunk beer in her hand and passed it to him. “Probably shouldn’t drink before I hit the road.”  
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer to where he sat on the couch and wrapped his free arm around her waist. “Would it be inappropriate to ask again for a quickie?”  
“ _Don’t press your luck._ ”  
  
The next few days were spent doing nothing.  
Rosa did little more than lie on the couch. Franklin asked occasionally if she was okay, and she told him she was; but he mostly just left her alone. The main assurance that she was okay was when she’d go out into the back yard and take care of Chop. She cleaned up after him, took him on walks, fed him- it was like having a free dog sitter.  
“I’m surprised he ain’t tryin’ to get on ya leg right now.” Franklin said as he came outside. Rosa had settled into a lawn chair and stared out at the view of Los Santos over the short fence. Chop sat on the ground next to her, panting in the hot sun and keeping his chin on her thigh while she idly scratched behind his ears.  
“Honestly, so am I,” she chuckled. “He mounted a stray cat last time I took him on a walk!”  
Franklin laughed. “He’s pretty much got the same impulse control as T.”  
“No shit, amigo,” she sighed, making eye contact with Chop and nodding. The dog appeared to be smiling. It made her wish her mom would’ve let her have a dog when she was growing up. Lita said pets were too hard to manage if they had to suddenly move out of their house. Rosa never knew what she meant by that. But now that she knew about how Lita was technically still hiding from Tommy, she could finally connect the dots.  
“Is ya mom still tryna get you home?”  
“Yeah,” Rosa said. “I don’t answer her.”  
“That’s prob'ly why she sent Michael.”  
“No, she sent Michael because they’re close. Real.  _Fuckin’_. Close.”  
His eyes widened slightly when he figured out what she said. “ _Shit._ ”  
“Yup. How’s that for drama? Just found that out a few days ago.”  
“You must’ve been pissed off.”  
“Oh, I was. That was the icing on the shitcake that is my life. I was so pissed that I–” she stopped.  
“You went and saw T,” he filled in the blank.  
“…Yeah.”  
“And you and him…”  
She averted her eyes to the grass, feeling her face go beet red with shame. “ _Yeah_.”  
“Well… shit.”  
“Can’t un-break that egg.”  
“No you can not.”  
Her phone began to ring, and she pulled it out of her pocket.  
“It’s Tracey again.”  
“Maybe you should answer,” Franklin suggested. “She’s been freakin’ out about you errytime I see her. Askin’ if I seen you anywhere.”  
Rosa sighed and tapped the green phone icon on her screen. “Hello?”  
 _“Rosa!”_  Tracey’s voice blared through the speaker phone. She sounded like she was about to cry. _“Holy fucking shit, where are you!? I keep asking my dad where he found you but he won’t say! He said you were with Trevor!”_  
“I’m staying at a friend’s place,” Rosa replied, rubbing her eyes. Chop’s tail wagged at the sound of Tracey’s voice and he whined softly. She came over a few times since Rosa was over, and Rosa would go on a drive to leave her and Franklin to have time alone. Chop must’ve loved her.  
 _“You’re not with him, then? My mom is worried about you!_  Your  _mom is worried about you!”_  
“I’m-” Rosa sighed and shared glances with Franklin. “I guess I am kinda with him. I just… I just didn’t want to think of it that way.”  
Tracey was silent on the line for a long few seconds.  _“Wow,”_  she finally said. Otherwise at a complete loss for words.  _“I mean- I love you and I love Trevor so I guess I’m kind of happy for you? But the two of you combined is like a hurricane– or like, a tornado that picked up some live sharks…”_  
Rosa chuckled. “I get what you mean. You’re pretty much right.” She spotted Franklin nodding agreement to what his girlfriend said. Rosa stuck her tongue out at him. “But I’m not gonna go home.”  
Tracey sighed.  _“Can I at least meet you somewhere so we can talk for real?”_  
“Yeah, as long as it’s just you.”  
 _“Okay! Um- where’s a good place? Is the park by our neighborhood okay? The one by the church?”_  
A little too close to home for comfort. But… “Sure. I’ll meet you there in half an hour.” Rosa ended the call and groaned tiredly. “She’s going to bring Amanda or my mom, I just know it.”  
Franklin gave her a look of disappointment. “You know they just lookin’ out for you, right?”  
“I know.”  
“Man, I  _wish_  my aunt gave half as much of a shit.”  
“Please stop trying to make me feel bad about leaving.”  
“I’m not tryna make you feel bad,” he defended. “I’m tryna get you to see this the way errybody else does. You can’t see it ‘cause you’re too close to it, but T’s fuckin’ crazy. I like 'em. But I couldn’t do all this shit for 'em and I dunno how you can.”  
Rosa sighed and slightly moved her leg- making Chop decide to withdraw from where he was leaning on her and go to Franklin instead.  She stood up out of the lawn chair and stretched out. “Guess I’d better go check in with Tracey.”  
  
She parked her bike close to the curb and scanned the grass for her friend.  
She could spot Tracey a mile away with how she dressed. The matching turquoise halter top and shorts contrasted sharply against the grass and were practically glaring sunlight back into Rosa’s eyes as soon as she took off her helmet and approached. “Hi, Trace.”  
“Oh my god!” Tracey gasped and jumped up to her feet to practically tackle Rosa with a tight hug. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! I was freaking out when Jimmy said you were leaving! Why didn’t you answer me when I called before!? Why-”  
“Jesus,  _'Mom’_ , calm down!” Rosa smiled awkwardly. She’d dropped her helmet when Tracey xembraced her and picked it up once she let go. “I’m fine. You don’t have to be so clingy.”  
“You don’t look fine,” she said. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”  
She hadn’t. Truthfully she’d only managed shallow, sleep-like moments which maybe lasted twenty minutes at a time. The nagging thought of how she’d effectively ruined her own life kept her from resting. “It’s been a weird few days, but I’m okay. Just been– working, I guess.” She hated that she lied so effortlessly. To Tracey and Lita, of all people.  
It put her stomach in knots.  
“What kind of work?”  
Rosa didn’t have an answer. “Nothing special. How’s setting up for college going? When do you start?”  
Tracey let the change of subject slide. She’d known Rosa long enough to know what happens when her boundaries are pushed. Instead she played along and invited her friend to sit in the grass with her. “I’m going in the spring semester. I did some thinking about what I wanted to do and I thought, like- 'Rosa’s smart. She knows what she wants. Maybe I should follow her example.’ And I signed up for courses to get a degree in biology too!”  
No offense to Tracey, of course, but Rosa had actually doubted her intelligence. Nonetheless, she was impressed…. and flattered. “ _Really?_ ”  
“Really!” Tracey nodded. “I thought it’d be cool to work together, like, someday when we both make it. What’s better than working with your best friend?”  
The knots in Rosa’s stomach intensified.  
 _Tracey considers me her best friend…?  
I thought…_  
That their friendship was only a loose definition of the word based in mutual substance abuse and daddy issues and would only last while the good times kept coming. That it would be done and forgotten by the time Rosa left to further pursue her degree. Like it was no more significant in the grand scheme of her own life than getting a mosquito bite by the pool… Why did she assume that? Why did she assume that Tracey saw her as being expendable too?  
 _Wow…  
I’m such a piece of shit._  
She never realized until then how much she hated herself… How long had she hated herself without knowing or acknowledging it?  
“Dude…” Rosa said. She tried to cover her sadness and self-loathing with a good-humored tone. Genuinely touched that Tracey cared about their future as friends. She wanted to cry. “We should _totally_ work together someday.”  
  
The visit with Tracey lasted a couple of hours. They never left the park, instead sitting around and talking about life. College, TV, drama, their sex lives- average stuff.  
“You and Trevor,” she seemed to be waiting for the opportune time to mention him. “What’s up with that? Are you guys for real dating?”  
“We’re not,” Rosa replied plainly.  
Tracey frowned. “Then what are you?”  
“Oh, we’re  _fucking_.” Rosa gave her a big, fake smile and said it like it wasn’t any more interesting than clipping coupons out of the Sunday paper.  
Tracey’s face twisted into a look of horror and dismay. “ _Ew, Rosa! He’s like my uncle!_ ”  
“It gets worse! I’m also off the wagon. And I guess now that I have him around, I don’t have to pay money for a line anymore or use a fake ID to get drunk. Every loser’s dream.”  
“Are you living with him?”  
“No, but I guess I might soon. Just to stay out of Rockford Hills.”  
That sounded manipulative when she said it out loud. Using him for substances and a place to stay in exchange for sex.  
She felt dirty.  
And still felt like a piece of shit.  
Fuck, why did she all of this to herself?  
“What made you decide to do all this?” Tracey asked. She looked every bit as concerned over Rosa’s life choices as Lita, Michael, Franklin– everyone else. Those looks all were the same.  
We’re her choices really that bad?  
They didn’t feel as bad now that the initial shock wore off and she surfed the wave of casual self-loathing.  
“ _I was bored._ ”  
After that, they parted ways with another long hug; and Rosa got on her Bagger and left to go back to Franklin’s.  
  
She drove up to see Trevor’s truck parked outside, both him and that Wade guy sitting inside. She pulled up next to him on the driver’s side and killed the engine.  
“What’s goin’ on?” She asked after taking off her helmet.  
“I need you to come with me,” Trevor answered from behind the wheel. “We got work to do.”  
“Where at?”  
“Sandy Shores. I’ll explain along the way.”  
  
Sandy Shores was a three hour drive from Los Santos. Rosa insisted on driving herself out there, so Wade crawled up into the passenger seat of Trevor’s truck and she followed behind them on her bike as they pulled away. She wore her ear buds underneath her helmet- even though it was uncomfortable and was listening to M.I.A. for the first couple of minutes of driving until Trevor called her. She pressed the button on the cord of her headphones so that she could speak with him through the microphone.  
“So what’s the big emergency that I haven’t heard any kind of plan for?” She asked.  
 _“Things have been a little tense around my place of business,”_  Trevor answered.  _“I’m expanding, and rival groups don’t like that. So I handled one bunch of idiots and decided to meet with some new friends from the other side of the border.”_  
“Mexico.”  
 _“Canada.”_  
“Oh… I meant to ask. What exactly is your 'place of business’?”  
 _“Trevor Philips Incorporated!”_  She could see him wave his hand across the air from where she drove behind him, as if he were envisioning a banner with the company name.  
She rolled her eyes. “I thought it was 'Trevor Philips Industries’.”  
They turned onto the highway and cleared the city limits.  
 _Goodbye for now, Los Santos.  
“The name’s still up for debate, not important. The important part is that I found these new business associates. The part we have to worry about is if they’re willing to be friendly.”_  
“You don’t already know?”  
 _“You never know in my line of business.”_  
“Which is…?”  
 _“A couple things that’ll never stop selling in America: guns n’ drugs!”_  
“Can’t say you’re wrong.”  
 _“Trevor ain’t ever wrong!”_  She could hear Wade confirming in the background.  
 _“It’s rude to talk while someone’s on the fucking phone, Wade! Were you raised in a fucking barn?”  
“Sorry, Trevor.”  
“Yes. Yes you are.”_  
“Let up on him, he’s been pinned down in a strip club for god knows how long,” Rosa intervened. “Being tortured with titties.”  
 _“You poor soul,”_ Trevor said sarcastically to Wade.  _“Anyway,”_  back to Rosa.  _“I previously had an opportunity to work with the Chinese. But they decided to go another route. I calmly, and diplomatically that they were making a poor decision. And now they’re making the grass grow.”_  
“ _Huh?_ ”  
 _“They’re dead. The grass is growing because of blood and decay and- never mind, you get it. I need you two with me to make sure the exchange goes as planned. You’re both gonna be my PR and HR department.”_  
The rest of the drive was mainly quiet. Trevor called periodically to make sure she was still good to keep driving and hadn’t lost sight of them. They didn’t make any stops, and the sun was setting over the desert horizon as they passed the billboard for Sandy Shores.  
The neighborhood was absolute shit. Rusty, dirty trailers.  
Not a single person in sight who wasn’t a middle-aged white redneck. As a twenty year old Cuban woman, she felt out of place.  
They pulled up to what was possibly the most weed-ridden fenced off trailer in the area and came to a stop. Trevor and Wade got out of the truck and Rosa nudged down the kickstand of her bike with the heel of her boot and took off her helmet.  
“Home  _sweet_  home!” Trevor happily bellowed as he slammed shut the driver’s side door. He approached Rosa and swept her up off her feet (unexpectedly, which made a loud, reflexive yelp erupt from her lips) and carried her over his shoulder up the stairs. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Wade! Bright and early!”  
“Okay!” Wade replied.  
“Put me _down!_ ” Rosa half-laughed.  
“Oh, I have a  _specific_  place in gonna put you down,” Trevor smirked, carrying her inside. He slapped her on the ass once the door swung shut behind them, and everything went downhill from there.


	13. Fix You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Descriptive violence in this chapter, read at your own discretion.

Rosa woke up the next morning, naked and hung over in Trevor’s filthy bed.  
He wasn’t next to her. Must’ve gotten up.  
 _I need a fucking shower._  
She slowly crawled off of the displaced mattress and stretched out her sore legs. They’d had sex again the night before. Several times after he’d hit the pipe and provided some more cocaine for her to do.  
Now that she was sober, she hated herself again.  
It just wouldn’t fucking go away.  
“Trevor?” She called, peeking out the doorway. She wasn’t sure where all of her clothes were. Her bra was on the floor. Where was the rest?  
Scattered around the trailer, apparently.  
She could see her panties lying just outside the bathroom, her jeans draped over the dirty kitchen counter, and her shirt draped over the TV in the far corner of the kitchen.  
“Ready for round five?” Trevor answered, appearing from around the corner with a beer in hand. He was naked too, and she could smell ammonia on him from where she was.  
Of course it hadn’t bothered her when she was drunk and high, but now…  
 _Gross._  
“Round  _five?_ ” She asked incredulously. “We did it four times last night?”  
“Three and a half. You fell asleep in the middle of the last one.  _Again_. But who’s counting?” He took a long drink from the bottle as Rosa left the bedroom to gather her clothes. “Have I ever mentioned that you have the greatest ass on Earth?”  
“Trust me, I already knew,” she idly replied,  crossing her arms over her bare chest and shooting a nasty look at a pedestrian who looked into the window from across the dirt road. They kept staring, and began to make lewd gestures. Rosa looked disgusted and began to back away from the window, until she bumped into Trevor’s chest. She looked back at him then back to the stranger- who looked horrified when he saw Trevor Philips, and ran away.  
Trevor didn’t seem to notice the pedestrian, instead wrapping his arms around Rosa’s waist and kissing her neck.  
“I could do this aaaaaaaaall day,” he purred. She could feel his erection rubbing against her rear again.  
She felt sick in that moment. She wanted to say no, but felt like it was too much effort to come up with an excuse. So she settled for another approach. “What about the business thing you needed me here for?”  
“Right, I guess we don’t really have time for round five yet,” he groaned, stepping back and loudly cracking his neck.  
“I need a shower,” Rosa said. “I feel like I rolled in dirt.” She might as well have, judging by how gross the trailer was.  
“Alright, but make it quick. I’m gonna get my two idiots together and then we’re gonna go.” He headed for the bedroom, presumably to put some clothes on. She went into the bathroom.  
Filthy.  
Disgusting.  
She barely wanted to set foot in there, let alone bathe in there. “I think I’ll hold off until later,” she called. “I have this… hangup, I guess. I always clean the bathroom before I shower, and it would take forever, so… I’ll do that later.” Untrue. She just didn’t want to touch anything in there.  
“Even better, less time to wait.” Trevor appeared in the doorway again, now wearing dirty gray sweatpants. “It’s a real shame you gotta put  _this_  away,” he smirked, casually patting her on the ass again. She jumped, otherwise not providing a reaction. She instead moved past him to the bedroom so that she could get dressed too.  
  
“Who are you? What do you want?”  
“I’m- Rosa? Trevor asked me to come?” She looked at the older man in confusion.  
He adjusted his canvas bucket hat as he examined her, seeming to be searching for something on her. Her first impulse was to punch him for getting into her personal space. Trevor was really rubbing off on her.  
“Who exactly _the fuck_  are you?” She asked.  
He didn’t answer until he seemed to give up searching for whatever he was looking for. “Sorry, I had to be sure that you weren’t one of them. If Trevor trusts you, then I trust you.”  
“Dude, I’m serious, who the fuck are you? Who’s _‘them’_?” She clenched her fist at her side, waiting for him to mention ‘them’ being about her race.  
“I’m Ron,” he replied. “Acting CEO of Trevor Philips Enterprises while he’s busy.”  
“Enterprises,” she repeated. So many different fucking names.  
“And who are  _you_  exactly? What’s your role in all of this?” He asked.  
She rolled her eyes, noticing his knee brace and dirty glasses. This old man seemed to be paranoid and fragile- like any modern republican. “I guess I’m here for the same reason as you. Who the fuck is _'them’_ , Ron?”  
He looked around nervously, seemingly unsure whether anyone else was listening. “The government,” he whispered. “They’re always watching. We have to be careful what we say.”  
“Uh-huh,” she flatly agreed.  
“So- yer name’s just Rosa?” Wade asked. He’d been quiet since she came outside.  
Trevor was still inside the trailer, likely smoking more crystal before they’d leave.  
“Yeah. Rosa Salamanca,” she corrected. “We never really got to introductions before.”  
“Well I’m Wade,” he said. The more he talked, the less educated he sounded. But that wasn’t a surprise. “Wade Herbert. N’ this’s Ron-”  
“ _Shh!_ ” Ron hissed, whispering once more. “Ron Jakowski.”  
“Nice meeting you,” she whispered back sarcastically. The sooner she went back to LS, the better. Everyone out here so far was fucking weird.  
“So like, ’re you Trevor’s new girl? I seen ya together a buncha times… N’ I could hear ya from outside last night. Ya sure do curse a lot.”  
“Jesus H. fucking Christ,” she muttered, turning her head away to try to hide the pink in her cheeks. We’re they really that loud? “Sure. Whatever. Don’t ask me about that again.”  
“ _Allllllllrighty!_ ” Trevor boomed as he strode out of the trailer. “Let’s go get us some money!”  
  
The first stop was Ammunition. Trevor had pre-ordered several things that were ready for pickup. Ron and Wade both were given sniper rifles and shotguns because they could handle the heavier recoil.  
Rosa was shocked to see that a rifle was handed to her too, as well as a combat pistol as a sidearm. Small. Not much stopping power when placed in the wrong hands.  
But Trevor had trained her to be an excellent shot.  
“When are they supposed to show up?” She asked over their earpieces. All of them were linked but Trevor. He would put his earpiece in the moment something went wrong.  
He was standing near the runway of the Sandy Shores Air Field.  
 _“Should be here any minute,”_  Ron anxiously answered. He was hidden inside of the rusty hangar. Trevor’s first line of defense.  
Wade positioned atop the water tower, a little ways back. The second line of defense.  
And Rosa was across the road in the Senora National Park, where she would conceal herself against the huge boulders as the third line of defense. She found a lower point, where she could lay on her stomach and stay out of sight.  
 _“Is this a bad time ta have ta pee?”_  Wade asked. _“I’ve had ta pee for like twenty minutes.”_  
 _“This is a bad time.”_  Ron said.  
Rosa pulled a face and rolled her eyes. “You’re a guy, just fucking pee wherever you are- why is this so hard for you?” Idiots. Seriously. This was a narcotics and arms deal; so why work with these incompetent idiots?  
 _“Hey, yer smart!”_  Wade beamed. _“No wonder Trevor likes ya so much!”_  
Ah, that’s why. They were stupid, but highly suggestible and loyal to Trevor.  
Rosa had friends like that once. Back in college, who were easily swayed into helping her sell weed.  
 _I wonder what those guys are up to lately…  
Jail, probably.  
_  
Time ticked on, and they all waited. Rosa smoked two Redwoods, one after another, and peeked through the scope of her rifle on occasion to check on Trevor.  
Still there, casually adjusting himself.  
The sound of a plane in the distance began to grow louder, and Rosa looked at it through her scope once the plane came into view.  
It was coming toward the far end of the air field.  
That was them for sure.  
 _“Here they come,”_  Wade said.  
“Everybody ready?” Rosa asked. She dropped the butt of her cigarette and snuffed it out with her boot.  
Trevor popped in his ear piece while nobody was looking.  _“Everybody stay out of sight until you either see them pull out guns or hand over money. But be ready for both.”_  
He removed his ear piece and put it back into his pocket, waiting off to the side by the rusted, broken down remains of a bus by the door of the hangar.  
Rosa’s heart best wildly in her chest as she stared down the barrel of her rifle and watched the plane land. It was a small private plane, maybe big enough to hold ten people.  
It touched the ground and continued down the dusty runway, slowing to a stop near the hangar.  
 _“I don’t like this,”_  Ron whispered into his microphone.  
“I don’t either,” Rosa replied. “This is sketchy. I hope Trevor knows what he’s doing. It seems like he went into this completely blind.”  
 _“It’ll work out,”_  Wade said. _“Trevor always knows how ta get outta any situation.”_  
“I wanna believe that,” Rosa muttered. “Just stay ready to fucking save him.”  
Moments later, the plane’s engines silenced and the door dropped open to allow a group of three to exit.  
Just three of them?  
 _“This should be easy!”_  Wade said. _“There’s one for each of us.”_  
“Why’d they take a plane that size if there’s only three of them?” Rosa wondered.  
She observed as Trevor greeted the three guys. One was dressed in a dark gray suit- kind of like Michael’s. Only this guy was blond and had that douchey undercut hairstyle every hipster on the West coast insisted on having. The others were dressed in black tactical gear. Non-matching, so they couldn’t have been military or police…  
Private security, maybe.  
If only she could hear what they were saying.  
Trevor seemed to be trying to initiate friendly gestures- but nobody met him halfway.  
The guy in the suit kept his hands in his pockets.  
The other two stood at parade rest. As if they were actual military.  
This wasn’t going well. She could tell from a distance. “I don’t think things are working out.” Rosa said. She took the pistol Trevor gave her from where it was lying at her side, to concealing it in the side of her jeans and letting her shirt fall over it.  
 _“Those guys have guns,”_  Ron hissed.  
Rosa took her rifle’s safety off and set her sights on the guy in the suit. She was so set on him that she didn’t notice the sound of a van parking next to her motorcycle and killing the engine. “I have the yuppie looking fuck in my sights. Ron, you get the guy on the left. Wade: right.”  
She felt like she was shivering- even though the dry heat of the Senora Desert sun was beating down on her back.  
 _You’re scared again,_  she told herself.  _Don’t be a such a fucking chicken shit, Tommie. You learned to shoot, just fucking shoot._  
Negotiations seemed to be breaking down, and she saw the guy in the suit motion to his two bodyguards, who reached for their guns. “Take 'em out!” She ordered.  
Ron and Wade took their shots, and the two armed men dropped in the blink of an eye.  
But Rosa hesitated, struggling to keep her gun steady with her shaking hands.  
Come on.  
She saw the guy in the suit start to pull a gun from beneath his blazer.  
But Trevor had one in the waistband in the back of his pants- which he piled out immediately and put a bullet between the suited guy’s eyes.  
Rosa breathed a sigh of relief as she watched Trevor pop in his earpiece.  _“Well that went to shit pretty fast.”_  
“Fuck, you ain’t kidding,” Rosa sighed, still looking through her scope. Trevor began to walk back toward the hangar.    
 _“Does… does anybody else hear a buncha cars comin’?”_  Wade asked slowly.  
 _“No, why?”_  Trevor asked.  
 _“I can see 'em now!”_  Wade answered.  
Rosa began to ask where they were, but stopped when she heard the sound of a boot scraping against the rocks right behind her.  
She gasped, nearly jumping out of her skin as she looked back, and was met by a hand grabbing her by her leg and pulling her back with full force.  
She screamed and reflexively let go of her rifle, which clattered down the rocks in the opposite direction.  
Her attacker gripped her by the back of her shirt and turned her over. There was only one assailant. A young man all dressed in the same tactical gear. He knelt  over her, plastic zip tie in hand to try to restrain her.  
“ _Get off!_ ” She shouted, writhing with all of her strength. Her heart pounded in her chest with fear.  
“Shut the fuck up,” he ordered, struggling to maintain his hold on her wrists. “I don’t wanna have to kill you yet.”  
 _“Rosa, what’s happening? I don’t see you.”_  Trevor asked through the ear piece.  
“ _GET OFF!_ ” She screamed, kicking her attacker in the groin full force. His grip on her weakened just long enough for her to bring up her legs and shove him back by his chest. He fell away with a pained groan but got back to his feet to try to get at her again.  
She remembered the gun at her side.  
Her hands only stopped shaking once she pulled it out of her belt and pointed it at him. The training kicked in and she removed the safety and pulled the trigger.  
 _Oh god, she actually pulled the trigger…_  
Several shots fired.  
The bullets didn’t graze him or scare him off like she’d partially hoped for- instead, several dark red holes appeared in his chest and neck. His head jerked back when the last bullet went through his forehead.  
He dropped onto the dirt, face-first in a sickening heap.  
  
She killed him…  
 _She fucking killed him!  
_  
The gunshots were still ringing in her ears. As if on repeat like a broken record.   
The rest of the world was silent.  
She couldn’t hear Trevor shouting at her though her earpiece, or Wade and Ron panicking as they shot down the other members of the militia who drove up in black vans to where they were on the air field.  
And then she realized that there were several sets of footsteps in the dirt coming toward her direction.  
She was still holding the gun.  
She could never take however many of them there were on her own. So she quickly climbed back up on the large boulder she’d previously been lying on, and dropped down in front of it, by the street to hide.  
Across the road at the air strip, several more black vans had parked, and there was an all out firefight. She couldn’t see Trevor, but she could hear him still talking to her, not dead.  
“Holy shit, she fucking killed Foster!”  
“Stupid fucker said he could do it alone.”  
“Find her!”  
Rosa tightly gripped the handle of her weapon with one hand, and kept that arm steady with the other. She pulled the little microphone out of her ear to put out the droning sound of Trevor talking and listened closely to the footsteps approaching. Slowly. Cautiously.  
Just one guy from her right side. Coming from around where she was dragged.   
She waited, heart pounding in her ears until she saw the barrel of a rifle come past the edge of the rock.  
As soon as he began to turn the corner, she shot again.  
Just one shot.  
Through his neck.  
He fell to the ground, gurgling as blood filled his mouth and sprayed from his destroyed artery.  
Onto her pants.  
 _Holy shit-_  
“She’s there!”  
“Other side!”  
“ _Fuck,_ ” she muttered, dropping her pistol and yanking the carbine rifle out of the dying man’s hands.  
Loaded, safety already off-  
She ran along the edge of the rocks and found a narrow hiding spot near the Rebel Radio billboard. She kept close to the boulders, staying low as she waited for her attackers to make themselves seen. She stared down the sights of the rifle. The men in tactical gear appeared together, searching in all directions to find her while trying to guard against any shots that may come from the air field.  
If she could just separate them…  
 _ **BOOM!**_  
An explosion erupted from the air field where their plane had stopped on the runway. Either Trevor, Ron, or Wade blew it up!  
“What the fuck, was that!?” One of the men shouted, both turning their guns toward the rapidly rising fire.  
Rosa took advantage of the distraction.  
As soon as they looked away, she tightly squeezed the trigger and a rapid arrange of bullets sprayed the two men from the apparently non-bulletproof vests they wore, up to their heads.  
  
 _“Rosa!”_  Trevor shouted through the headset.  _“If you’re dead, I’m going to lose my fucking mind! Answer me!”_  
Ron and Wade had shut up so that they could all listen slowly for the girl’s voice. Nothing.  
The shootout was over fairly quickly. Not a lot of guys, like ten at most. They must have landed at McKenzie Field and driven around the Alamo Sea to take T.P.I. by surprise. Little did they know that Trevor was psychotic and had backup. Their plane was blown to shit, and everything was silent. Too fucking silent.  
“God fucking damn it!” He muttered, breaking into a run toward her vantage point. “I swear to  _fucking_  god, I won’t do this dead fucking friend shit again!” He threw his earpiece to the ground as he neared the street.  
And when he crossed it, he found pools of blood running off toward the asphalt.  
 _SHIT-_  
“Rosa!” He called.  
“T-Trevor?” A small voice sobbed.  
He looked past the bushes and smaller rocks and found her sitting in the dirt, several feet away from two dead men.  
She looked like a mess.  
Pale. Makeup smudged under her eyes where tears had obviously been running down her face.  
“They– They tried to kill me…” She stuttered. Her heart had stopped pounding once they’d hit the ground, but now…  
She wished she could go back to the moment before any of this happened. At least she could… she could feel something other than this.  
It was indescribable. Numb. But at the same time…  _Horrible_. So fucking horrible. She was splattered in blood. Blood of one of the men she’d killed. She-  
“ _You_  did all this?” Trevor asked incredulously.  
She looked at him, eyes wide with horror, and nodded.  
He stared back for a moment and then smiled widely and hauled her up to her feet before pulling her in and kissing her hard on the lips. He even dipped her low to the ground for a moment.  
“You are fucking incredible!” He bellowed. “You’re a fucking  _maniac_ , I love you!”  
“Trevor, I  _killed_  four people! I didn’t want to do that!” She shouted, pushing away from him with fresh tears in her eyes.  
“Nonono, it’s okay!” He assured, putting his hands on her shoulders to root her to the spot. “We did our best! We’ll try again some other time!” Trevor wondered why she was so freaked out by this.   
Didn’t she ever have a dog that died or anything??  
“I’m can’t-” she cried. “I can’t, I can’t, I-”  
“Look, you’re a strong girl,” he said. “You shouldn’t let this bother you! Just don’t think about it!”  
“I-”  
“You can handle this!” He said, beginning to feel frustrated. “It’s like I said before- we’re both damaged. We can be damaged  _together_. We don’t have do it it alone! I’ll be here to  _fix_  you. Because I  _love_  you.”  
 _But he couldn't fix her._ There was no fixing anything that came from a day like this.  
She was overwhelmed by the mix of horrific emotions spiraling inside of her. But… Something about this killed the agony, just a little bit. Just enough to make her able to live with herself. Having him in that moment felt like a blessing, and she was so certain that what she felt was real and permanent. “I… I love you too…”  
“You’ll stay with me? Like- live with me?”  
“Yeah…” she said. Defeated. “I’ll stay…”


	14. Twenty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abuse in this chapter, read at your own discretion.

She didn’t need a fucking doctor to tell her what the problem was. She already knew.  
Depression, PTSD, and substance abuse to numb it all, so that she could continue to convince herself that she didn’t need a fucking doctor to tell her what the problem was.  
She already knew.  
And she was handling it the best she could.  
The dog a few trailers away barked endlessly at about seven every morning when mail was delivered. That’s when she decided to leave the bed.  
Naked. Like most mornings.  
There wasn’t a night when Trevor would just let her go to bed without sex first. And because she was staying with him for free (and because a good orgasm helped dull her intrusive thoughts), she obliged.  
  
She left the dirty mattress and gathered the cleanest clothes she could find. A pair of secondhand shorts from the local Binco and one of Trevor’s white T-shirts. Decent clothes were scarce in Sandy Shores. She hadn’t been back to Los Santos since she left Franklin’s place- where she left some of her clothes. She had to make due with what was available.  
  
She stepped over the trash on the floor with care. She didn’t want to make any noise- partially because she was hung over with a massive headache. Like most mornings.  
Also, because Trevor was still asleep. He always got pissed off if she made too much noise in the mornings.  
She used to try to keep the trailer clean.  
But eventually she realized it was a futile effort. And now she just picked garbage up off the floor and tried to keep bugs out.  
She grabbed a plastic bag from one of the cabinets and began to pick up trash. Beer cans and bottles, cigarette butts and packaging, junk food, bloody bandages.  
She’d gotten another tattoo the day before. She’d been spending a lot of money on those lately.  
Scraping needles against her skin for hours on end and leaving permanent markings with the added temporary sting like a sunburn was therapeutic- and addictive.  
  
Once the living room and kitchen were picked up, she checked on the bathroom.  
It was the only actual clean room in the trailer. It was the only room where she could be alone without question. She often spent a long time in the shower, or just staring blankly into the mirror at her own reflection until she barely recognized it as her own.  
She looked at the old calendar on the wall outside the bedroom. It still said it was August, 2013.  
  
Only it wasn’t.  
It was February, 2014.  
  
She’d been living with Trevor for two-ish months. He made a lot of grand promises to help her get over leaving home, falling off the wagon, and committing murder.  
Only he didn’t.  
They’d gotten drunk most nights, had sex, he fed into her coke habit- regular stuff. He left daily to check on his meth business a little further out in town. He sometimes got her to go along and stand watch in the false convenience store downstairs.  
He’d gotten her to try meth once.  
Just once.  
And she hated herself for it. She never wanted it again and she began to avoid him whenever he’d do it.  
Because not once, but twice when he was really fucked up on both meth and huffing gasoline, he forgot her name. He called her “Patricia” or “Ashley” by accident- and one time, began to say Michael’s name. Then he quickly corrected himself when he saw the look on her face.  
After that, there was a tirade or him yelling at anyone he could find about any little thing he could get mad about. Including to her. And then once he came down, it was all self-loathing.  
Rosa hated herself and knew a lot of people who hated themselves too.  
None quite like how Trevor did.  
She found herself frequently trying to put those days out of her mind.  
  
She stepped outside to check if her phone could receive anything. Signal was weak in this part of San Andreas, and even weaker indoors.  
The dog that woke her was still barking, and a few diesel pickup trucks and quad bikes driving by masked the barking for a short minute. They took care to stay away from Trevor’s truck. Her motorcycle wasn’t parked near it anymore.  
Trevor had gone on a bender one night, took it for a ride, and came back without it. When she demanded to know where it was, he only slurred “I fucking hate bikers” and passed out on the floor.  
A month ago.  
She waved good morning to the drivers as they went by, but none waved back. They never did.  
Most of Sandy Shores avoided talking to Rosa at all costs. Hell, few of them even knew her by her name. She was “Trevor’s Girl” to them, and nobody wanted to get skinned alive for being friendly with Trevor’s Girl.  
  
 _“How’s Sandy Shores this week?”_  
A text from Franklin managed to come through.  
 _“Not terrible. Still missing LS. How are you and Tracey?”_  
 _“She started college.”_  His prompt answer came with an emoji of a little grad cap.  
Rosa smiled to herself. She was proud of her friends. Tracey kept her word and Franklin was a genuinely good guy. Criminal, yes; but ultimately a decent person.  
A text from Tracey.  _“I miiiiisssss u!!!!! Come visit me!!!! Do some of my homework with meeeeee!!!!”_  
Rosa couldn’t help but laugh a little. She really missed hanging out with Tracey.  _“Soooooon! Let’s meet up somewhere one of these days and get coffee!”  
_  
And one missed call and voicemail from Lita.  
  
She rarely spoke to her mom, but she did occasionally answer her to let her know she was alive. Lita begged her to come home every time.  
Rosa wanted to go home. But how could she face anyone after how she left?  
She was so ashamed.  
 _“Hi, Muñequita,”_ oh god, that nickname from when she was little- Lita only ever called her that anymore when she was feeling sad and nostalgic. Rosa felt the same way hearing it.  _“I miss you.”_  
She teared up a little bit every time she heard one of her mom’s voicemails now.  
“I miss you too,” she muttered over the recording of her mother talking about how things at home had been. Normal. CJ and Ken asked a lot if she was okay. She’d been thinking of adopting a cat or a dog because the house feels too empty.  
 _“But I miss having you here. I…”_  Lita sounded on the verge of tears. She silenced for a minute, and Rosa could only hear sniveling and a few deep breaths.  _“I hope you’ll change your mind. No matter what, you’re always welcome here. You’re still mi niña and I love you… I hope to hear from you soon… Bye…”_  
And that was it.  
Rosa sat on the creaky wooden steps on the porch with her head in her hands. Hearing from her mom got harder every time.  
  
March, 2014.  
“I’m leaving!” She shouted, grabbing the first articles of clothing she could find. She began to change into the outfit she first came to Sandy Shores in.  
“And where are you gonna fucking go?” Trevor laughed. “Back to your mommy’s? To F? Oh, oh- how about that hipster fucking tattoo artist?” He leaned against the doorway, steadying himself. Too drunk to stand upright without stumbling over.  
“I don’t fucking care!” She snapped, pulling on her T-shirt and dropping the loose pink sweatpants he’d had for whatever reason. “I’ll go to fucking San Fierro! Far away from  _you!_ ” She stepped into her dirty skinny jeans and wiggled her way into them. The blood was impossible to wash out. It left a grotesque brown spray pattern across her knees.  
“Look, I said I was sorry! What, is a sincere fucking apology from the deepest part of my goddamn heart! Is that not  _good enough_  for you? Huh?  _¿No es fuckin’ bueno?_ ”  
“ _Fuck you, Trevor!_ ” She threw the pink sweatpants at him. “And fuck your fake ass apology!”  
“All I do for you, and that’s how you repay me,” he muttered, giving her a resentful glare. “I took you in, I let you stay, I gave my heart to you, I fucking  _fixed_  you after you pussed out on me-”  
“STOP SAYING YOU ‘FIXED’ ME!” She finished tying her shoes and got in his face to make him really listen. “I’m still here and I’m still fucked up because of you! Stop trying to make me feel like I’m a horrible burden on you! I wasn’t the one fucking other people for the last two months! Fuck!”  
He loomed over her. Ominous. Threatening. She’d seen that look on his face before. One other time when he was drunk and stoned, and some guy bumped the side of his truck with his car door. That guy was left in the parking lot of the Yellow Jack Inn, unconscious or maybe even dead. She wasn’t sure. She tried not to look.  
“So what, you think it makes you better than me?” He grabbed her by her belt and forced her closer. “Like you’re a fucking angel and I’m lucky to be graced by your presence.”  
“Let me-”  
“Shut up.” He interrupted, he slid his other hand up to the side of her face. “All this arguing’s fuckin’ stupid. We can just bang it out and forget all about it, babe.”  
Her expression twisted from a look of anger to disgust. “Fuck. You.”  
The anger on his face amplified, and the hand on her face moved to her throat and shoved her back with all of his strength until she fell backward on the bed. She choked out a painful yelp when the back of her head hit the faux wood paneling on the wall, and she coughed violently as she tried to regain her breath. She clutched at her throats and stared wide-eyed at him as she instinctively pushed herself into the corner of the bedroom.  
Now, officially, terrified of Trevor Philips- who had never even threatened to raise a hand to her before.  
Trevor stared back, realizing what he’d just done.  
They didn’t speak for several days.  
  
May, 2014.  
Rosa woke up with a frightened shriek. In a cold sweat. In the dark.  
She breathed heavily as she sat up in bed and tightly hugged her pillow to her chest. Her dreams were still fresh in her mind’s eye, and her eyes welled up with continuous tears again.  
She didn’t sob or whimper or cry out, only sit and try to put it out of her mind.  
The image of four bodies in the dust of Senora National Park. The sound of flies buzzing. The stench of rot. The acidic taste of vomit in her mouth. Her pulse was pounding with anxiety as she remembered the feeling of a hand around her neck.  
 _It’s over. It’s just a dream. It’s over. It’s just a dream. It’s over. It’s just a dream-_  
This was almost every night. She didn’t always cry, but she did always have to repeat that mantra to herself to get her heart to stop pounding with fear.  
She set her hand on the sheets beside her, expecting to find Trevor.  
But she was alone.  
She didn’t know where he was and she didn’t care. She was just relieved that he wasn’t there for her to wake him.  
  
She got out of bed, unable to fall back asleep, and stepped out into the hallway with her phone in hand. The time was 2:37 AM. No sign of him out here or in the bathroom. Good.  
She sighed and grabbed a warm Pißwasser off of the table and chugged it down.  
Beer was disgusting when it was warm, but it was alcohol and that’s all she cared about.  
She ended up stepping outside and taking the bottle with her.  
She checked her phone for signal, and nothing came through. Fuck it, she’d call him.  
The phone rang once, twice… like six fucking times. Then went to his voicemail with the automated message before she hung up.  
 _Fuckin’ Trevor._  
“Oh, so I’m not allowed to miss your calls but you can just tune mine out?” She muttered. “Asshole.”  
Since that one incident, he seemed like he wanted to be anywhere but at the trailer. He’d stay out most of the time but came back anywhere from every few hours to every few days, just for sex or to have someone to hold onto when he was depressed. Nothing else. She didn’t ever want him to touch her. It took the entirety of his absence to mentally prepare for it. It was just easier to go along with it when he was around. She stopped caring, as long as she wasn’t pregnant or diseased.  
She took the last unpleasant sip of her beer and angrily chucked the bottle out across the street, where it shattered on the asphalt. A stray cat somewhere nearby hissed and the dog that woke her up every morning began to bark.  
“Why’d I just stay here?” She wondered. “Why didn’t I just go home to get better?”  
 _I thought I could do that here._  
  
Time ticked on, and she still couldn’t sleep. She just had time alone with her thoughts while she picked up trash. Somehow the same amount every day.  
 _… How did I even get here?_  
Oh, right, it started because she needed money for college.  
But here she was, about $375K in her bank account and not in college.  
Why? For Trevor? Was he worth abandoning her goals for? He made her feel so shitty so many times.  
Even before they lived together. Back when they first met, she felt uncomfortable with him. The leering stares, the way he wandered into her yard… Then when she went to go see Logan, all of that…  
 _“You act like any of the other idealistic, basic floor model chick Los Santos has to offer.”_  
The same anger she felt before sparked to life. That’s what she was to him. Interchangeable. A place-filler for…whoever Patricia was…  
And then he tried to feed her the “you’re special after all” bullshit any other shitty guy she’d been with did. And she fell for it.  
 _“You understand what it’s like to have to fall back on a friend you can buy in a back alley. You’ve had your heart broken like I have, you’ve been thrown aside by a parent- I knew it before and I know it now: We’re meant to be together.”  
Fuck you.  
"I can fix you.”  
Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOU! NO YOU CAN’T!  
It’s your fault I’m even like this!  
I don’t even wanna-_  
-be here anymore. Plain and simple.  
 _“If you need an out, call me. I’ll take care of it.”_ She remembered Michael giving her an out.  
It was 3 AM.  
If she were to call Michael right now, he might get there before Trevor. He might be there right on time to keep Trevor from talking her out of leaving. Or worse.  
 _Do it,_ she told herself.  _Just do it._  
She reached for where her phone laid on the couch.  
 _Just fucking-_  
She stopped.    
 _What if this was a bad idea? Is it? Am I overreacting?_  
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She asked herself aloud. “You never would’ve put up with this kind of shit before.”  
 _But that was before-_  
“Before what? You killed those guys? You ruined your relationship with your mom? You started a relationship with a dangerous lunatic who put you in those situations and tried to hurt you?”  
 _This was his fault. None of this wouldn’t have happened if he-  
… No… I put myself here. I did this._  
“… It was all me. And I need help. Real help.”  
 _At least I know that…_  
She picked up the phone while she still had the nerve.  
  
 _“Kid, slow down, what’s going on?”_  Michael’s tired voice groaned on the other side of the line. He’d been asleep.  
Rosa could hear Amanda asking who was calling so early in the morning. And she could hear Michael answer her.  
 _“Is she okay?”_  Amanda asked in the background. She sounded more alert as soon as Rosa’s name was dropped. Tracey had told her that her mom was worried. Why did she doubt that?  
 _“You okay? Did he hurt you?”_  Michael repeated.  
“I’m fine… I just- I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be here anymore.” She spoke fast, as if in a frenzy. She felt sick with nerves and had to put effort into not crying her eyes out like a baby. “I just- I don’t have my bike, it’s gone and I don’t know where it is. I need-”  
 _“Calm. Down. I got you,”_  Michael sighed.  _“I’m getting up right now and I’ll be out there in a couple of hours. Is he there? Does he know you’re leaving?”_  
“No.”  
 _“Alright, just- if he tries to talk you out of it, don’t let him. I’m on my way.”_  
As soon as Michael ended the call, she put her phone back on the couch and practically ran to the bathroom to take a shower. If she was going anywhere, she wanted to wash the smell of the trailer out of her hair.  
She was riding the high of promised freedom and the excitement to go back to Los Santos.  
This was the first time she felt hopeful for improvement in months.  
  
5 AM.  
Rosa paced the messy trailer in the only clean clothes she had. Her shorts from Binco and her LSSA shirt. Her boots thudded lightly on the vinyl floor with each step as she tried to stick to her plan. No backing out. No-  
The front door creaked open and slammed shut.  
Trevor.  
She turned around to face him and saw that he came in with an empty shot glass in hand. He probably walked off with it from a bar without realizing it.  
They stared each other down for a moment.  
“Where you goin’?” He asked.  
Shit. How far off was Michael by now? He had to be at least kinda close. Hopefully.  
“I was gonna go find you.” She lied.  
“Why?”  
What could she tell him? He went to Michael’s place almost constantly. Right next door to her home. It’s not like she could avoid him forever. It’s not like he couldn’t just wander over to her house and break in.  
She couldn’t put her mom in that situation. She wouldn’t.  
“I’m going home,” she said before she could come up with a gentler letdown. “I don’t want to be here.”  
“And how are you supposed to get there? Because I’m not taking you anywhere.” He hadn’t raised his voice yet. The initial shock hadn’t worn off yet.  
“Not important.”  
“Well you need to tell me what the fuck the problem is!” That was quick.  
She visibly flinched when he shouted, but stood her ground. Unmoving.  
“The problem is  _you!_ ” She snapped. “You’re fucking insane! You practically keep me as a pet because it’s easier for you to just feed and fuck me and ignore me the rest of the time! You’re the reason I need fucking therapy! You-”  
He chucked the shot glass across the trailer and it smashed on the fridge behind her. She gasped and moved away from the shards of glass on the floor and couch.  
“Well what about you, then!?” He advanced on her and she instinctively brought up her arms, ready to push him away. “What the fuck do you do to make anything better? You lay around and feel fucking bad for yourself! You don’t even try to help the company anymore! You won’t even push crystal for me! You think you have it so fucking bad-”  
“FUCK YOUR STUPID COMPANY!”  
“T.P.I. IS MY LIFE’S WORK. I COULD MAKE  _YOUR_  LIFE COME TO A FUCKING END JUST FOR SAYING THAT!”  
“YOU ALREADY HAVE!  _I’D RATHER DIE THAN STAY WITH SOMEONE LIKE YOU!_ ”  
They stood inches apart, Trevor towering over her so close that she could smell the liquor on his breath. It made her stomach churn- in addition to her nerves.  
“I’m not trying to hurt you or kill you like you seem to  _think_  I am,” he lowered his tone, but spoke slowly to make her take in every word. The same way she once watched him speak to Logan after breaking his nose. “But if that’s what you want…”  
She glared up at him. Blindly unafraid. “ _Then stop talking and fucking do it._ ”  
He didn’t raise a hand to her, but his expression dropped into a look of sadness once his anger faded just moments of silence later. All other avenues to keep her stay had depleted. And now that the anger had passed and she wasn’t backing down, the anxiety kicked in; and he imagined a glimpse of what life would be like if she were to leave. Bleak. Just like when Michael was gone for nine years.  
“Don’t leave,” he said. It wasn’t an order. It was a plea. “Everyone I love ends up leaving me and I can’t fucking do it again. I know this is fucked up and it's because _I’m_ really fucked up, Rosa. I fucking hate myself. I hate  _everything_. But I love you. I fucking _love_ _you_. I’ll change. I can change. We can get married- we’ll have a kid if you want! I need you here; I don’t wanna be alone right now, I-” He sunk to his knees, arms around her legs and his head against her stomach. Rooting her to the spot.  
“I can’t stay, Trevor,” she said, voice shaky and unsure. Nobody had ever gotten down on their knees and begged for her presence before. It made her uncomfortable, and she really pitied him; but she would have to stay firm. “I have to go back to the real world where I belong. I used to think I was this badass who could handle anything, but…”  
She felt her eyes watering and she blinked back tears. Trevor looked up at her, not even trying to conceal that his eyes were wet and bloodshot.  
“But we’re just– really fucking _bad_  for each other,” she continued. “I came here because I thought you wanted  _me_ … But I was just kidding myself. You don’t love me and I don’t…” Her head shook slightly as she came back to her point. “I was just a way for you to fill a void. I can’t be who you think you need. I’m  _not_ Patricia-”  
“How do you know about-”  
“-and I’m not Michael.”  
He went dead silent, but his eyes visibly brimmed with fresh tears. That struck a cord, and he was frozen for a moment.  
She stepped back from him, and he absently reached for her as if willing her to come back. “I have to go…”  
She headed for the door. She’d just have to wait for Michael outside.  
“Rosa, I love you,” he uttered once she reached the door. One last ditch effort to make her change her mind. To make her stay with him. That’s what people who loved each other did. They stuck together. No matter what.  
She knew that if she turned around, she’d see him standing there and she’d want to run back to him. He’d tell her all kinds of sweet sounding fallacies about how he’d work to be better, how he’d fix everything.  
But he couldn’t fix anything. Not even himself.  
So she opened the door and sighed, her phone still clutched in her hand and the morning sun over the horizon burning her eyes.”  
And she told him what she knew he needed to hear.  
“I love you too, Trevor. And I’m sorry for this.”  
And she was gone.  
  
Senora National Park was dead at that hour, and the only sounds in the early morning were coyotes in the distance, birds, the occasional freight train passing her up.  
She’d ran away from the trailer as soon as she walked out the door before Trevor could decide to follow. She crossed the railroad tracks and sat under the faded wooden sign for the park as she watched the sun come up.  
She choked back sobs for an hour, feeling like she was going to be sick and praying to every god she’d ever heard of that Trevor wasn’t coming to find her and hurt her.  
She remembered that Michael was going toward Trevor’s trailer, and she dialed his number to tell him her location.  
By the end of that hour, a little after 6 AM, Michael’s black Oracle crossed the railroad tracks and pulled up to the park sign.  
He rolled down the passenger side window and called out “Need a lift?” over the sound of The Orwells playing on his radio.  
Rosa wanted to cry again, but instead managed a small laugh, hurriedly getting into the passenger seat and buckling in.  
“You don’t have anything else with you? No clothes or anything?” He asked.  
“Nothing I care about,” she muttered. “Thank you for coming to get me.”  
“It’s alright,” he put the car into drive and they turned around, pulling away from the park and Sandy Shores.  
A place she didn’t ever want to come back to.  
“I assume you don’t wanna talk about it?”  
“That’s right.”  
“Then I’ll save my 'I told you so’ for when you do.”  
They were quiet for about half an hour, and she fought the urge to fall asleep against the car door. She was thinking about what she’d say to Lita when she came home. How she’d apologize to her, to Ken, to CJ- everyone.  
She shifted slightly, accidentally rubbing her newest tattoo against the door.  
She gently touched the irritated skin of her forearm. The dagger tattoo would be the last one for a long while. No more killing time with ink needles and lines of blow.  
“Hey,” she said. “Before you take me home, I need to ask you for another favor.”  
“Ah, shit.”  
“Nothing crazy, I promise. I need you to talk to Lester for me.”  
“What for?”  
“I wanna give back the money from the job I helped with. Whatever I have left, I don’t want it. I’ll just do something stupid with it.”  
“What about college?”  
“I’ll just have to make it the hard way.”  
Michael glanced over at her, surprised that she’d take the difficult route. “What do you want him to do with it?”  
“I don’t care. Give it to Trevor. Insurance to stay away from me and my mom.”  
“Interesting,” he said. “You think he’ll just stick to that?”  
“It’s incentive. It’s more than what kept him from coming back to you.”  
A low blow. But Michael accepted it without an argument and glanced down at his phone in the cupholder to dial Lester's number.  
He wanted to say that Trevor only came back because he couldn’t stand to be alone. He hated himself. He hated having no one but himself.  
But Rosa already knew that.  
Nobody hated themselves like Trevor did.  
  
  
September, 2014.  
The money she’d left on the bathroom floor all those months ago was used for her stay in rehab. Four months and several breakthroughs later, she didn’t feel fixed. Maybe it was because she didn’t tell the full truth. She never mentioned the bank robbery or the deaths of those four security men. To anyone. She would fight those demons alone and take them with her to her grave.  
Other than that, she was perfectly fine. At least according to her group therapist.  
  
On her first day out of rehab, Rosa had gone to Bob Mulét for a haircut.  
Her long hair, which was down to her mid-back was now cut to above her shoulders in an angular bob. Her hairdresser asked her why she wanted to cut so much off, and she told him it was a fresh start.  
“Was it a man?” He asked. “Honey, I get at least ten ladies your age in here a week talkin’ about cuttin’ a man out of their hair.”  
"Yeah, something like that," She feigned a smile as he spritzed her hair with water and got to work.  
By the time he was done, excessive amounts of wavy, dark brown locks had littered the floor all around her, and her head felt lighter in weight.  
A new look for a new start.  
A new Rosa Salamanca.  
  
“I’m so happy you’re here!” Tracey cried, trotting down her driveway and pulling Rosa into a hug that took the air out of her lungs.  
“Owww, you’re squishing my boobs!” Rosa laughed, genuinely for the first time in months. She hugged Tracey back just as hard. Happy to see her best friend after all that time. “I missed you.”  
“I missed you! But we’re gonna make up for lost time starting now. Because, surprise! I’m taking you out to Bahama Mama’s tonight for your birthday!”  
Oh shit, that’s right- it was the 12th. She’d been looking forward to getting out of rehab for so long that it was the only occasion she associated with today.  
“Awesome,” Rosa grinned. “I’ll have to find something nice to wear now that I can  _really_  party.”  
“I’ll lend you one of my dresses! Let’s go pick!”  
  
They both went inside, both of them giggling at Tracey throwing ideas out at how she wanted to do Rosa’s makeup and style her hair now that it was “cut so cutely”.  
On the way, they stopped in the kitchen to pour themselves glasses of wine to get a pregame buzz going.  
And when they were walking out, laughing at a story Tracey shared, both Michael and Trevor had walked into the house and stepped past the kitchen.  
Trevor stopped in the doorway when he caught a glimpse of brown hair and tanned skin.  
And Rosa nearly dropped her glass when she saw him.  
The same as ever, only now he had a tattoo on his forearm of a dagger.  
Matching her own.  
Tracey turned from the counter and saw him there, immediately trying to diffuse the moment. “Hi, Trevor,” she said. “We’re just leaving-”  
“It’s fine, I won’t be here long,” he awkwardly said, not taking his eyes off of Rosa. And she didn’t take hers off of him. “Rosa.”  
“Trevor.”  
“I… You cut your hair.”  
“You got the same tattoo as me.”  
“Coincidence,” he lied. He got it so that he could think of her. The same with the sparrow on his neck. For Patricia. And the cross on his arm. Michael. He wanted to say a lot more to Rosa. And she wanted to say a lot to him. Instead he settled for: “Your hair looks good.”  
“Thank you,” she said, reflexively reaching up to touch it. The length was still so unfamiliar that she only reached half as far at first, thinking it was still long.  
“Michael said it was your birthday.”  
”It is,” she said. “I’m twenty one now.”  
He nodded, subtly biting his lower lip to keep himself from saying much more.  
“Ah- let’s go get ready,” Tracey said, taking Rosa by the arm and leading her away. She and Trevor didn’t stop looking at each other until the two women had gone up the stairs. That was the last she’d see of him for long stretches of time. They spoke less and less, until it was eventually not at all; but the pain in their chests and obvious exchanges of sad looks never stopped. And never really would.  
Rosa drank her glass of wine unnecessarily fast and was soon at ease again once they got upstairs. She and Tracey tried on dress after dress until they’d settled on two equally short, tight fitting outfits. Rosa’s was solid black, Tracey’s was a shimmery purple.  
  
Bahama Mama’s was a lot of fun. Tracey had invited a few people to celebrate with them. Including Michael, Amanda, Lita, Ken, CJ, Kendl, Cesar, Lamar, and Franklin came for a surprise party. Just for her. Jimmy came but only for a little while. He’d had a shift at Burger Shot that evening. The others who came were friends from high school who they’d maintained friendships with on LifeInvader. Nobody particularly special, but she was happy to see them nonetheless.  
  
After the fun was over, only a few people lingered. Just her, Tracey, and Franklin sat together. Tracey was happily drunk and leaning on her boyfriend’s shoulder. They’d been together for months, and were comfortable with each other. It was nice to see.  
“So now that you’re out, what’s the plan?” Franklin asked.  
“I’m gonna go back to work and then go the fuck back to college,” Rosa replied proudly. “Just like I always wanted.”  
Franklin smiled and nodded approvingly. “And then what’s next?”  
Shit, that’s a question she hadn’t thought of yet…  
 _What’s next?_  
She shrugged, leaning back in her chair with a clueless grin, and a heavy, anxious heart.  “My life, I guess.”


End file.
